I wrote this in the spring of 2016 when I was a sophomore in high school. I joined the writing club to suck up to the AP Language Arts teacher because I had heard she was a harsh grader that played favorites.

Mother Nature

When I try to explain my emotions to my father, he frowns.

How am I to explain something so complex you can only feel?

I explain my anger is like a tornado ripping and destroying everything in its wake, except the only thing in its wake is me.

I explain my hurt is like a roaring storm. My tears like raindrops, the lightning and thunder like my inner and outer emotions, both sprouting from the same thing but expressed so differently.

I explain my joy like a hot summer’s day when children are out to play, but in the end get all sunburnt because, for some reason, I feel guilty for being happy when so many others are suffering.

I explain my love is like a snowy Saturday morning where you cozy up with a mug of coffee and a good book next to the fire, and through all of the chaos of life, you feel simply content.

I explain my emotions to my father in a way I feel he will empathize with.

The uncontrollable, unpredictable, all-consuming

Mother Nature.