and I didn't realize it until I had stared out my bedroom window until the storm had blown over, watching countless raindrops begin and end their journey

I noticed the way something so gloomy had its own beauty

and I noticed that just because everything has been painted in melancholy blues and grays, doesn't mean it can't be breathtakingly beautiful

even though those same blues have been painted in my heart, I am still a work of art

and I know that I am just a storm waiting to
blow
over