The weather inside us
- pirihappyjoy
- Jun 3
- 1 min read

Some days arrive like fog.
You wake up wrapped in something slow and grey, and though the world hasn’t changed much, you move more softly, speak less, feel like staying in.
Other days crash like summer storms—thunder in the chest, sudden downpours behind the eyes.
No explanation. Just a clearing.
Then come the bright, impossible days.
Everything blooms.
You speak freely, walk quickly, and remember your name with ease.
You want to call someone. Start something. Say yes.
And in between, there are the droughts.
Long stretches of stillness, nothing growing, when the waiting feels like a second skin.
When you wonder:
is something wrong with me—or am I just in another season?
Weather doesn’t ask permission.
It moves.
It shifts.
It comes and goes.
And maybe we’re not so different. Maybe our moods, our clarity, our capacity—are not signs of failure, but signs of weather passing through.
So today, if you feel sunny, go outside.
If you feel grey, stay warm.
If something’s stirring in you like a gathering storm—listen.
You don’t need to fix it. You only need to let it pass.
The sky always clears.
And so the weather inside us.
@piri2025
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