And it’s rainy days that are the best. 

The ones you can sit under throw blankets and memories

with good books and earl grey tea,

and think nothing of the time that’s passing.

Admire the grey skies with peaceful eyes,

heavy clouds drowning out sorrows of the day. 

You can still hear the thunder boom in the distance,

rattling the curtains and your existence

Awakening every fear and stinging tear you had, anxiety rising like floodwater 

reminding you that lightning still strikes the tallest, strongest trees.

But it’s only an echo, a far away attempt at repeating the very sadness that buckle your knees at the thought of failure.

And it’s so far away, but so very loud. 

Loud enough to dismantle the confidence off the walls of your self-esteem, forcing the foundation to crumble under pressure, 

and how do they expect you to support the entirety of your being if you are falling apart all together?

But it’s only an echo, a reminder that failure is a possibility, but it does not have to be a choice. 

And that is the rainy day…

a steady fall, only stopping when the thunder in the distance is no longer as loud as it feels.