She was tired, caught in a sadness brought on by a morning of self-judgement. Daily she'd wake, tell herself she was normal, then fall into a routine of criticism. She was a lost soul, a youthful self loather.
Walking today she could feel the burden of herself upon her shoulders. She felt overcome with fatigue. As if hearing her thoughts, the wind stood behind her, pushing her forward with forceful nudges. Each gust peeling the smile further across her face.
A little further ahead rain came to greet the pair, entwining itself affectionately with the wind. Together they circulate her, spinning her body into a dance. She was a spirit of the rain, a hunter of poor weather. Like a vampire to blood, the rain was her delight, her mysterious companion who's freshness pulled her out of her thoughts. This rapid hurricane of emotions greeted the weather with joy. In this moment she was no longer alone. Her opinions and judgements forgotten. She let the stormy weather carry her in pathetic fallacy.
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