She’s quite a strong woman. One of the strongest women you’ll ever know. She looks like she can never be blown by a raging storm. She is the raging storm. She moves people and inspires them by the things that she does and the things that she can do.
She talks with confidence and she sounds like she knows everything she’s saying. She’s smart and funny. She’s carefree. She somehow managed to be tough and sweet at the same time. And oh, the love she gives….
When she loves, she gives it all. She will fill and overflow you with it. Even if she gets hurt, she fights through it. She acts like nothing can break her down, not even a heartbreak. She cries for a night just to let it all out and when she’s done, she gets on with life.
But no matter how much she acts tough and strong and happy, there are times, so rare though, that a hint of sorrow peeks through her forced smile. I sometimes hear sadness in her voice when she jokes about her problems like they don’t affect her much.
And then one night, she told me something that I never expected to hear from her. She said,
“I feel lost. I’m so tired of everything. There’s something in me that’s broken and no matter how much I try to fix it, it just doesn’t seem to get fixed.”
I look at her, astonished. She looks at me and smiled.
That’s when I realized that the raging storm was a beautiful lie. It was a facade to overlap on what’s really happening on the inside. She’s not as strong and tough as I imagine her to be. She’s not invincible. She gets tired too.
How could I be so naive to not see through her?
She’s still the storm that she is, leaving places that she’s been, affected by her presence. But it doesn’t mean that if she’s a storm, she doesn’t want to be a normal rain or a drizzle from time to time because storms doesn’t last long. It’s rage eventually fades just like her strength.
And sometimes, storms get rest and hide for a while and let the sun shine through all the land.