The Storm

There was a while, and I won't define the duration of "a while" as it is far too embarrassing, that the thought of him caused me physical pain. The 'him' in this story doesn't really matter - he is not the point.

The pain, the ache, it lived with me and it was as if it was my companion. I have written at length about life after the pain but on nights like tonight,walking in the falling snow, I almost miss it.

I know that sounds a little masochistic but the ache kept me company and now, well now it is just quiet.

I am happy, as close to content as I have ever known, but sometimes it is so quiet I just want to scream and throw things just to feel the echo in my heart.

I don't miss the 'him' in this story, not really, not enough to venture down that road, but sometimes I miss the storm.