The weather is pretty miserable round here. Its grey and cold. The wind is starting to hit me on that little bit of skin that should have been covered up and my whole being feels the chill. Regardless, I really do love this weather, I’m pulling out scarves and bed socks. The heater is looking like more of a comfort than a black whole of debt. And when it rains, man do I love when it rains. I park up in front of the window, snuggled in a rug with a cup of tea and just watch as the sky cries.

But when it rains at night, it gets me. I wake to hear the rain on the roof. Some how the rain hits the hardest when you wake to hear it. I feel the grey and the cold and the chill hit me. But its in those moments when the rain hits the hardest, I am swamped with guilt. Always when the alarm clock says ‘are you effing kidding me o’clock’ I wake with a lump in my throat, moments from tears, stiffling sobs so not to wake the house. When the rain hits the hardest, I miss my dad. The guilt hits me like a bullet. Guilt because there has been too long between tears, too long between grieving, too long between the sadness. I know thats not true. Everyday I feel a part of me missing, everyday I feel like there is something he’s missing. But the guilt, it hits you like a wave. Never prepared, it sits on you chest and slowly absorbs into the whole body. There is hot lava burning through my veins, it hurts, the guilt hurts hard. I cry harder when the guilt hits, 2.36 am I curl, face into the pillow and force the howling into the foam. Rushing through the tears, pushing through the the pain, forcing myself to breathe again. And then, thankfully the rain begins to soften. The tears dry, the room gets quieter, and the guilt floats back into the shadows to wait for anothter day. I look at the clock and see 2.39 am. Drive by guilts in the middle of the night, painful and consuming, only when the rain hits the hardest.

Much love peeps xxx

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