Star-crossed

She awoke from her cavernous thoughts as the waves hit the shore. The sky was grey over the horizon, with the turquoise sea beneath. In her eyes that were the color of the sea itself, a touch of contentment existed. Yet to an outsider, she might have appeared dowdy and crestfallen. For her eyes lost contentment every now and then, and the dejection would take its place—the dejection before which she had always relinquished. Shaking her head, she got up and headed for the shore, humming softly. On reaching the shore, she came to a halt and stopped humming. Kneeling down with quivering lips and stinging eyes, she felt tears streaming down her cheeks at the thought of her degenerating immunity. How the people whom she had always been there for, were now neglecting her when she needed them the most. 

Looking up at the mighty waves, she whispered, "You're just another witness of my storm that I conceal within me. The irony is that nobody likes the storm but admires the rainbow that comes after it. I wish I could alter their way of thinking. I wish I could tell them that every cloud has a silver lining."

The writer is an AS level student.