The Night the Sky Broke & So Did I

It’s 3:12 AM. I’m writing this while it’s still happening because something about tonight feels heavy, haunted, and weirdly important.

It all started around 2 AM. I was, as usual, on my phone, deep into some random YouTube video, earphones in, zoned out. That’s when the thunder hit. Sharp. Sudden. Violent. It cut straight through the white noise in my ears, and I jerked upright like something had grabbed me by the collar.

I pulled my earphones out and that’s when I heard it.

The wind. The kind that doesn’t just blow- it screams. It moved through the air like it had a purpose. And this house, with all its empty corners and long hallways, suddenly felt too big, too hollow.

Windows I know I had shut were wide open. Doors were slamming again and again, like something wanted in. The storm wasn’t just outside, it was inside. In the walls. In my breath. In my bones.

I had to get up. I walked through the house, locking windows, shutting doors, while the wind pushed back like it didn’t want to be shut out. One door slammed just as I reached for it, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

It reminded me of lockdown days. COVID. When I had to sleep alone through similar storms. Back then, I’d plug in my earphones, blast music loud enough to drown everything else, and hope I could sleep through it.

And then it happened.

My room lit up. Not a flicker but a blinding white light from nowhere. It lasted just a second, and then something loud crashed outside. Maybe lightning, maybe something else, I didn’t get up to check. I just sat there, frozen, watching shadows stretch and crawl across the walls.

And in that eerie silence after the crash, I realized something inside me had shifted too.

Because tonight, I didn’t just survive the storm outside, I weathered something internal too.

There’s been a heaviness I’ve carried for far too long. I overthink. I hurt in silence. I rarely show it, but I feel everything too much, too deeply. And when it comes to people, I hold on longer than I should.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I finally let go of something that no longer served me.

I didn’t wait for the final blow, didn’t wait for another sign. I didn’t keep a door cracked open. I shut it. Locked it. Just like the windows in this house.

It wasn’t about anger. It wasn’t even dramatic. It was quiet. Calm. Just… enough.

And for the first time, it was me who said, “no more.” And damn, that feels powerful.

I don’t always know how to walk away. I usually hope people come around, understand me better, care enough to stay. But slowly, I’m learning to choose myself- gently, quietly, without needing to explain.

2025 feels different. There’s something solid about the way I’m moving through things this year. One step at a time. One decision at a time. I’m not rushing. I’m just listening to myself more.

Tonight, with the wind screaming, the sky tearing itself apart, and the echoes of old habits fading—I finally feel okay. Maybe just for now. But enough to finally sleep a little lighter.

And I’m not forgetting this night.

Not anytime soon.