Thunder cracking the sky into a million pieces

As I sit and watch the thunderstorm from my roof I wonder what my actual purpose is.
I wonder what to do with my life, what to say to the people I'd like to know better and what to say to those I want completely out of my life, world and universe. I wonder if my love will just continue blooming or if it will eventually need a base to grow on.

I'd say I'm pretty competent. Or at least I've grown to be over the last few years. Life has been a little rough, not only in the edges but in the sides, the middle, over and under. Quite like a worn shirt.
But it hasn't worn me down. It has merely been an appetizer, letting me build castles in the air and feeling imaginary winds flowing through my hair and pretended clothes. The thunder making a brilliant setting, I'll wander into the world wearing nothing but wellingtons and wisdom.

I'd love the feeling of the cool droplets trickling down my hair, passing over the boarder to my back, down my thigh and into my boot. I'd be walking on water eventually, feeling greater than myself. I think I would pinch a little hole in my skin, letting my blood combine with the raindrops, just because the feeling is so magnificent.

Sometimes I long to run off to my dreams and walk around in my melancholic world of rain and mountains and eternal fields. It is truly the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

Everything I just wrote has no specific use. El torro escremento.

I am currently working on a tale of the girl Audrey Monét (it isn't a coincidense that her surname is the same as mine) and her wonderous cat Abigail. Together they will travel to places noone has ever travelled before, and experience marvelous things. I am still in the progress of creating, but I will start writing as soon as this heavy burden of homework is lifted from my narrow shoulders.

Vi ses