The Journey

I wrote this one while I was sitting through one of the endless and painfully boring (pun intended) lectures on individual and society in college. It just popped up out of nowhere, am guessing out of boredom... lol. Anyhow I thought that it made enough sense for me to be able to share it with the world. I love the writing style of Rushdie, where you make up your own words and phrases and don't care about the judgemental smirks of people. I try to incorporate that style into my writing where I write anything I want even if it means nothing to some people. So here goes nothing...

I am sitting in the silence of my room, listening to the sound of the wind.
The Tivo blaring in the corner, staring coldly at me
I somehow sense the rain and the wind howling outside, beckoning me to leave the warmth of my room.
Where nature will take its course on me, drenching my entire being with its forceful beauty; swish, swish it goes; drip drip on the tin-top roof.
Should I go? I ask myself
My heart stops for a while, hesitating.
Flashbacks of an old fool who once believed in the beautiful nuances of life
Now no longer alive enough to think
Do I dare?
I see my tiny, broken down window splattered with the rain, pulling me to the outside world with a nonchalance as sweet as a child's.
The sweet scent creeps into me and I finally come alive.
I dash across my room, dashing across everything I was close to, towards that old wooden door, where the rain awaits me
The nerve of me to walk out into the rain. Do I have it in me?
I say why not see for myself.
Finally I cross the threshold that has held me for so long
Towards a beauty; eccentric, refreshing, daunting but nonetheless, as good as it was promised.
I had finally arrived.