Alliteration

As I sit here on my bed, thinking of things that I can’t control, I listen to the wind whistle around the corner of the building. I guess I can relate to that wind; I sweep myself through life, sometimes moving quietly and sometimes trying to make as much noise as possible. Maybe it’s for attention, I don’t know, but it always seems to have some hidden meaning behind it. Why am I quiet? Well ‘cause then I have the reputation of being the chill one, someone that others can comfortably be their self around. Then why do I make noise? Because even the chill one needs to make someone laugh once in a while. But just like the breeze, I only touch the surface. I rush by, making a scene only long enough for people to take notice, but not long enough to make an impact. I want to be like a hurricane, or maybe like the wind that blows when it’s cold and wet outside (the kind that goes right through you). But how do I live such a life? Someday I’ll find out.