Stream of Consciousness

The world moves too quick. “Speed Society,” we call it. We. Don’t. Stop. Always distressed over frivolous matters that when solved, if ever, bring absolutely no slight or drastic change to our lives. We live diseased at the thoughts others have of us. We fear what they think. Will they think I’m handsome? Will they think I’m brilliant? Will they think I’m kind? Will I be welcomed into their ever esteemed and select social group? I mean, jeez, I need friends. Blah, blah, blah. A life based on actions and thoughts brought upon what others think of us. What a mess. What disgusting grotesque mess. Why should I care? It doesn’t matter, but I do care. We all care. Stream of consciousness. Sorry. Anyway, I walk. The rain drops crash on my face, breaking into thousands of smaller drops on impact. It rains daily here, and the drops are always scorching initially and the smell is always pleasant. This is my me time. A time when I can escape the dark, dreadful, and deafening noise that has overtaken this world. A time when I don’t have to impress anyone or be afraid to cry, scream, or laugh hysterically. Walking on the wet sidewalk, avoiding puddles, hearing thunder crack, and watching as lightning brightens the otherwise pitch black sky. The incomparable elegance. Comfortably numb. Perfect. Quite the metaphor for life isn’t it? Flashes of light in never-ending darkness. How depressing. I walk in my clothing made exceedingly heavy by the weight of the water soaked into it. As uncomfortable as it is this is as comfortable as I have ever been and ever hope to be. I walk. Events from my past flash before me like a movie. The time I fell of my bike as a child and tore my knee open, the blood running down, and my empathetic cries. The world was ending. My mother tending to me as if I was the most precious and important thing on the planet. I miss that attention. I miss her. She was a flash of lightning between episodes of darkness. A time when I could see the goodness this ever so cruel world had to offer. I see my high school crush. The girl I always thought would come back to me but never did. I walk. The water is still crashes on my face with unrelenting power. I close my eyes and welcome it. I feel the boiling water and pain… Now my back. No longer hot. Warm. I then think about her. Her. Her. She’s always on my mind. I always seem to think about her mid lighting. Interesting. It lasts a moment before darkness eclipses the light. She’s light. She’s darkness. She’s elation. She’s hopelessness. She’s all the feelings I could ever feel. I walk. I step on a puddle or green fetor water. Deliberately. The water is getting colder. Then I see the mistake as if I were committing it again. I chose it. It’s amazing how sometimes we chose things even though we know how painful they will be. How long the mourning will last. How we’ll always regret. The lightning is missing now. It’s been missing for minutes now. It’s seized when she disappeared. I walk. The water burst on my skin. I shiver. The darkness is blinding. I can’t see. The rain is becoming unbearably cold as time lapses. There is no one else walking with me. I’m alone. Completely. My skin wrinkles from the exposure to the "natural" rain. Then to my surprise. Unexpected. Glorious. The brightest flash of lighting I’ve ever seen. For the first time I see everything clear. I see everything surrounding me. I see beauty. The now freezing water tells me it’s time to get out. I wait. Get out. I wait. I reach to turn off the shower, and think to myself: “I should really replace that light bulb.” I step out. I dry myself. I smile.