I watched those little cottonwood fluffs tremble in the spiderwebs. The breeze making them dance in their own chains. Causing them to long for the freedom they once had.
I was tired. My hammock swung with the breeze as clouds began to form over head. The sky was dim, but not dark. Dusty with pearls of rain that hadn’t quite decided to commit their mass suicide and fall to the pavement, only to be swallowed by everything that could drink in their corpses. My eye lids were heavy. My heart was too. A deep sadness crept within me to rest a while. The kind that makes depression swell like billowing waves and seismic tidings of restlessness that shook you within, but did not stir your exterior.
Storms were brewing. Angry storms. Though I did not know it yet. I had not yet gotten past the stage of sorrow. Anger was coming, laying in wait. Anger at circumstances. Dissatisfaction with the status quo. Life was pressing in on me and I was buckling beneath the pressure. No, a diamond would not be formed from it. Not this time. For though I would show with such sparkle in the light, I knew that I was merely glass; pretty to look at, but not nearly as strong as I seemed.
That was me being overly dramatic though.
Tomorrow it would pass. I would merely let the storm rage and the wind and rain would whip and sting at my heart, but calm would come again. I would be renewed. I would be refreshed. I merely had to endure the storm.