Hey, I love you better when you're wild

Just now, the air outside these brick walls has darkened, trepidation hangs thick and heavy, and breaths come more like great chugging gulps. Yes, this is a moment rife with wicked anticipation; the storm will will eclipse the sun, the wind will pick up, and projectile water-drops will begin their skydives like kamikaze pilots on a mission to soak the Earth with their ruptured bodies. As I gaze expectantly at the sky, I am reminded of his words: "I don't consider myself a pessimist. I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain. And I feel soaked to the skin." My hearing must be better than I thought it was, if I can still hear a whisper from ten years ago. Have you gone deaf entirely, or do these fading echoes still bend your ear as well? I have started making out shapes in the dark clouds forming above... one in particular looks just like you. I could swear I see your legs sticking out of the bottom of it, can just barely make out the motion of your hand lifting to pinch your nose as you prepare to take the plunge. Do it. Become the daredevil once more. Suits you better if I say so.