I always feared the day that we would come to an end. I was petrified of the idea. I strived to convince myself that what we had would never end. Sure, It would take breaks. It would at times be that “on and off” kind of relationship, but at the end of the day, I would always tell myself that our relationship would never end. Our love was a waterfall. It fell strong and hard. In my mind, it was a never ending, continuous waterfall, falling hard endlessly throughout eternity. But no, every waterfall has to hit the stream at some point. But when the water from the waterfall does reach the stream, the water does not disappear. The water is not destroyed. It does not vanish. The water just simply stops falling. Just like that. Sure, there’s a quick slap of pressure when it hits the bottom, but in the end, the water from the chaotic waterfall just joins in with the stream, and fades away. But something I know about the world, is even the largest bodies of water precipitate eventually. So yes, evidently we were once a hard falling waterfall, falling hard. We hit the bottom. It was a quick slap of pressure. We then drifted throughout the stream, emotionless. Unsure of what our future held. Unsure if we would meet again and form a wave sometime in the future. Unsure if we would drift away from each other, without feeling anything at all. We were curious. Curious and unsure. Eventually, the stream we are now floating in will precipitate into the sky. This isn’t visible. You don’t notice the body of water precipitate into the clouds into the sky, it happens naturally, without physical evidence. It connotes with our feelings, that now have transformed from a hard hitting waterfall, to a misleading body of water, to an unseen precipitation into the sky. No one noticed the body of water turn into the clouds. The water didn’t notice. The clouds didn’t notice. Not until there was a new body of water formed. One must remember, with every cloud, must lead to a storm. The body of water has now transformed into a cloud, which seems graceful and in it’s place. But no, this cloud is misleading. Soon it will overload, and burst. The cloud is aware that it will burst soon, but yet it can remain so relaxed. The cloud seems content, there is a new body of water formed. There is a new waterfall falling. There is new water being precipitated into the cloud that I am currently formed into. But I know soon it will storm. It will storm hard. The raindrops will fall back into a waterfall. But the raindrops will never, ever drop the same as they did with us the first time. They will not fall into the same waterfall. Some raindrops will fall in a field. Some will fall on top of houses. Some raindrops will fall on top of the umbrella I watch you and "her" share on a stormy day. This umbrella, you hold, shielding yourself from reality. Reality is the storm. Reality is me, the cloud, bursting into a rain shower. But you have your umbrella. It blocks the showers from affecting you. It still might affect me, but something I need to accept is that these raindrops will never fall into the same strong, hard waterfall that occurred throughout what we had. But, they will still gracefully fall. And even though it might be storming hard, with every storm there is a rainbow. You were my waterfall. You were the first step in the process of creating my rainbow. I was so positive you were my rainbow. But I guess that’s part of growing up. You were my waterfall, my first fall, my first crash, my first curiosity, my first cloud, and my first storm. But you are not my rainbow. My rainbow will arrive and be here to stay, and my rainbow still has yet to come.