I’m trying to figure out what my lightning walk means. Maybe I assign more importance to cinematic events, but it really felt as though all the sensations I had during the walk had nothing to do with any superficial intentions. For once in my life.
I couldn’t tell if I was scared or grateful or bitter or even awake. I couldn’t tell if I was daring god to mess with me. I was wearing a backpack. I was too confused to cry, so I just let out a weird sound that reminded me of yarn in some way. None of my senses made any sense.
Usually, wind bothers me, and I spend a lot of time trying to contain my hair from blowing all over the place. Maybe then I didn’t care, or maybe I just accepted that maybe my hair was supposed to blow all over the place. The lightning was so big. The thunder was an ugly laugh. Come at me.
Big drops came down as soon as I got to my door. That’s right, you wouldn’t dare rain on me, hahaha. I stood there for ten minutes and watched the rain march around the corner. Weird rain soldiers.
I didn’t want to go into my house. I wondered if one of my housemates would walk by, see a figure standing menacingly in the doorway, then would open the door and bop me on the head with a big stick or something. Then I would fall down the front steps and die. They would feel so guilty, and I felt guilty thinking about inadvertently making them feel guilty by standing weirdly in the doorway and scaring them. So I went in the house. No one had to die or feel bad.