Chalk dust and rain

This story means a heck of a lot to me, and I started it a while ago and am just finishing it up now. I don't want to tell the whole story right now, by it involved many tears and lots of pain. So this is actually based off of something that happened in my life. The details are hazy, but,still. This is true. 

This is inspired by true events.

I smell rain in the air and clouds over head. I clip my hair up in a bun and shove my headphones over my ears, opening the door and walking outside. Evan and Jaron’s Make it better is played into my ears from the headphones and I smile the tiniest bit.

I don't know what's happening to me

I can't remember things I used to believe

I caught myself just the other day

Stealing color from words and leaving them gray. 

I sit down on the patio chair for a moment, staring at the chalk drawings my sister did earlier today. Since it’s going to rain, I think to myself, rocking back and forth a little, Those will be gone soon. I feel one raindrop fall onto my hand, and my smile grows for a second.

Yeah, I've fallen down a time or two

But no one was looking so I'm not telling you

And suddenly, I’m on my feet, a piece of chalk in my hands. The chalk touches the wood of the porth and begins to move, up down and around, making letters. I didn’t even know I was going to do this until I did. The first word, I know what it is and it’s done before I know it. Like the beginning of a letter, it addresses who I’m talking to. Who my words are talking to. 

RAIN 

Though I continue after, the words slipping and spilling out of me like an overflowing cup. Words that have been waiting for weeks, even know I felt fine until now. I felt great until I had this piece of pink chalk in my hand. 

I've got to make it better, make it all right

Got to find me a ladder to reach the light

Got to move to the exit, single file line

Before the fire spreads to my head and burns my mind

WASH THIS

I’m breathing loudly, but the soft music is so loud I can’t hear it. I feel one more raindrop on my skin and begin to write faster. 

AWAY.

Under that, in smaller letters, I keep writing, though the letters are so small you can’t really read them because of all the chalk dust. 

ALL THE SECRETS.

I’m gasping and tears are falling, though only as occasionally as the rain drops. 

ALL THE PAIN. 

I don’t know if I can keep writing, because all of a sudden I can remember why I’m writing this, why I’m hurt, why everything bad has ever happened to me. And it hurts. But the piece of chalk keeps on scratching and wobbling against the wooden slats of the deck. The pain hurts, but I draw the pain out  of me with the words I write. Because that is why I write.

ALL THE LOVE. 

As soon as I write it, I feel a pang in my chest. I want to take the words back, though I know they’re true. I press my lips together firmly and sign my name underneath it. 

I sit outside. And wait for,the rain to come.

I walk back inside, and wait for the rain to come. 

I pace the house, and wait for the rain to come.

But the rain does not come. 

I poured my soul out onto rotting wood, and still it was not washed away. I wish it was.

I wish the pain could be rinsed clean like a dish of greasy food.

I wish it could be thrown into a bin like compost, turned into something wonderful. 

I wish something would happen. But the clouds just sit there in the sky. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I wanted to remember this for a long time, but this hurts. And the pain is not going away. I put my headphones back on, squeeze my eres shot tightly, and listen to Jo from little women scream her heart out about the fire within her. And I don't look out the window. And I don't look out the window. And I turn up my music, and I don't.

I don't look out the window.

Finally, the song is done, and I run up the stairs, not looking at the windows. And I bury myself in my pillow, and I dare to open my eyes. 

Rain.