Rainy Day

The door rang. Feelings of anxiety and displeasure began to swarm over him like a plague. He opened the curtain to pear out. He hated the outside world, but atleast today it looked more like him. He pressed his nose against the glass. A thick layer of fog surrounded the area, reminding him of how cloudy his vision into the future is, how he cannot see one for himself. The rain was falling hard and fast. People were trying to get to shelter or get out their umbrellas. It reminded him of how he had heard he was dragging everyone down, by being how he is. He was the sad rain that was falling, and he was putting it over everybody else. The sun was non-existant, much like the ability to feel happy, and full of joy. Puddles were forming and taking over pavements and roads, much like how this depression, this hope for death was taking over him. Anyone without an umbrella or shelter was getting soaked, because they weren’t prepared. He thought about all the people that weren’t prepared for him to be like this, and how they’re getting hit by it the worst. Cars were skidding and motorcyclists were being careful to avoid extra wet patches, much like what he used to do. He used to avoid feelings like this, but now he creates them. He thought that, maybe if he ended it all the sun would come out for everyone else. He would be rid of the gloom and rain, and give the sun to everyone left behind.

Who was it at the door? Oh, just a postman. No-one for him.