"It started like the rain.
First, you can see it. You can see the sun hiding behind curtains of grey and dense clouds. You can see how the day suddenly becomes misty, almost ascetic. As if your life lost all of its temporal flavor.
Then, you hear it. The loud thunders resound just like that song you keep on playing when your sky isn't the same shade of blue as the sky above you. Like 'Miss Misery'. Or if you're a little more vainglorious, 'Please please let me get what I want this time'.
When the thick drops of rain finally start to fall, you realize it's too late. You should've collected your clothes before. And you should've closed your window when it started to drizzle.
Now, all that's left is your soaked clothes, wet floor, and the smell of grass. Petrichor.
I guess that's how it started. Like the rain.
I should've asked for help when I started to cry alone in my bedroom."
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YOU ARE READING
petrichor ; lrh
Romance"I've felt so many words trapped inside my chest; many of them are still there. I like to see the letters as wings, who encourage me to jump, to lost myself in that sea of black and sorrow. One day I'll jump. One day, I'll lose myself. One day, you...
