Pluviophilic Solace

 PLUVIOPHILIC SOLACE

by: CFML

October 18, 2010

 

I was 15 back then – still speculating what it’s like to be one. Too hooked up and curious about the things which were written on books, contemplating if it does happen in real life. Anticipation filled my system for I am legally licensed to feel things people write novels about. How it’s like to be of age. How it’s like to fall in love and experience how unbearable anguishes are. 

 

I have never fallen in love that time but the latter one did the twist.

I flipped the page of the portfolio that I was reading. It was 8:00 am and I was rushing my requirement which has to be submitted the next day. It was a typical day for me – or so I thought. 

My warning bells started blaring when I heard my mother panic. I closed the portfolio and placed it underneath my bed. One minute I was enjoying my self-asserted creativity and the next thing I knew, I was hastily grabbing stuffs and placing it to where I thought it’ll be safe.

I have never experienced anything so detrimental and heart-wrecking since that day ensued. The wind started howling like it never howled before. Leaves fall off and trees rive with its severity. My insides frenzied but what soothed me was the thought that it’ll pass anyway. We’ve survived a lot of things and I know we’ll make it out alive. 

I was right but I was also wrong. I was right that it’ll pass but I was wrong for it never pacified me for real. From the moment the roof was detached from the walls and the walls began to break down, I knew something inside me perished. I witnessed everything. How my mother shed tears like the pouring rain; how my father struggled to put everything in place; and how my brother fought for that one thing we called home. 

I begged for hours. I beseeched the winds to spare that tangible thing that mattered most to me. I am a pluviophile but during that time, the rain never eased my agony. Its coldness consoled me not. A crack made its way in my heart as the turbulent winds reverberated everywhere. It made me crumble and cry my heart out – and how my heart crippled when no one listened to me. That day, something’s altered. Falling off the floor, drenched and quivering in fear I saw how devastating a natural phenomenon can be. 

At 15, I’ve been broken, wrecked and pounded fervently.  That day gave me the phobia that still haunts me every time it rains. I feared that if it happens again, I’ll lose not only the haven I was living in but my lucidity. I’ve been a damsel in distress once – I almost quit dreaming. But I lived, and that is enough to remind me that this life is worth fighting for.