You Taught My Shadows to Shine

The rain lashed against the windows of the old house, a relentless drumming that mirrored the tumultuous storm brewing within me. Tonight, the wind howled like a banshee, rattling the panes and sending shivers down my spine, but it wasn't the storm outside that held my attention. It was the storm inside, the one that had been gathering for years, finally ready to break.

Tonight, I decided, was the night. The night for poetry, for singing, for getting you close. Tonight, I would write you a letter.

I sat at the old wooden desk in the study, the one that had belonged to my grandfather. It was a sturdy, reliable piece of furniture, much like the man himself. I ran my hand over the smooth, worn surface, drawing comfort from its familiarity. Outside, the storm raged, but in here, in this quiet room filled with the scent of old paper and ink, there was a sense of calm.

I picked up my pen, a heavy, old-fashioned thing that felt good in my hand. I uncapped the ink bottle and dipped the nib, watching as the black liquid clung to the metal. I took a deep breath and began to write.

My Dearest Oshana,

The words flowed from me, a torrent of emotions that had been dammed up for too long. I wrote about the first time I saw you, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the sound of your voice that could make my heart skip a beat. I wrote about the moments we shared, the late-night conversations, the stolen glances, the unspoken feelings that hung in the air between us like a tangible thing.

I wrote about the fear that had held me back, the fear of rejection, the fear of ruining the friendship we shared. I wrote about the what-ifs, the endless possibilities that haunted my dreams. I wrote about the longing, the ache in my chest that intensified with every passing day.

I wrote about the stormy night outside, the perfect backdrop for the storm within me. I wrote about the poetry and the singing, the ways I tried to express the feelings I couldn't put into words. I wrote about the desire to get you close, to bridge the distance that separated us.

As I wrote, the storm outside seemed to mirror the intensity of my emotions. The wind howled louder, the rain fell harder, and the thunder rumbled like a angry god. But I didn't stop writing. I poured my heart out onto the page, every word a confession, every sentence a plea.

I wrote about the future, the one I dreamed of sharing with you. A future filled with laughter, with love, with endless possibilities. A future where we could face the storms of life together, hand in hand.

When I finally finished writing, the storm outside had begun to subside. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, and the wind had softened to a whisper. I read the letter over, my heart pounding in my chest. It was raw, honest, and vulnerable. It was everything I wanted to say, everything I needed to say.

I folded the letter carefully and sealed it in an envelope. I addressed it to you, my hand trembling slightly. I knew that sending this letter was a risk, a leap of faith into the unknown. But I also knew that I couldn't keep these feelings hidden any longer.

I walked to the front door, the letter in my hand. I opened the door and stepped out into the cool, damp air. The storm was over, but the night was still dark and mysterious. I looked up at the sky, at the moon peeking through the clouds, and made a silent wish.

I walked to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and dropped the letter inside. As I heard the clink of the metal, a sense of relief washed over me. I had done it. I had finally put my feelings into words and sent them out into the world.

Now, all I could do was wait. Wait for your response, wait for your reaction, wait for whatever the future held. But as I walked back to the house, a sense of hope bloomed in my chest. Perhaps, just perhaps, this stormy night would lead to a brighter tomorrow.