The Storms

I love storms.

I’m not really sure how to explain it… but I just do.

Most people rush to close their windows when the sky darkens and the wind picks up. Me? I open them. I want to hear everything, feel everything. The air gets heavy, almost electric — and somehow, my mind goes quiet. It’s like I’ve come home.

No music, no distractions. Just the sound of the world turning wild.

When the storm rumbles, some people flinch. I don’t. I actually smile. It doesn’t scare me — it feels like the sky is speaking. Not in words, but in raw emotion. Loud, deep, honest. And I listen. I let it shake me a little.

The rain too — I love the feel of it on my skin. Cold, real. I’ll reach my hand out and just let it fall. It’s like the world is pressing reset. Rain doesn’t just clean the streets — sometimes it clears my thoughts too. I breathe better when it rains.

And the wind… right before the storm hits, the wind goes wild. It bends trees, slams doors, messes up my hair. I let it. It feels alive. It feels free. It reminds me to stop trying to control everything.

Most people prefer calm skies. Blue, peaceful, still. I don’t. I like the heavy clouds. The sudden flashes. The pounding rain. The storm that shakes the walls.

That’s when I feel alive. Not when everything’s perfect, but when it’s all real.

Maybe that’s why I love storms. Because they don’t pretend. They’re loud, messy, unpredictable — but honest.

And honestly, I wish I could be a little more like that too.