It is raining. I like rain. Not because of the cheesy saying that you can’t see the tears when it’s raining, but it’s true. You really can’t see the tears when it’s raining. But I have an umbrella, so if I cried, you would see my tears. Sometimes I feel so empty, I can’t cry, sometimes it just bursts out of me like a waterfall. Am I crazy? No, I think I am not. I don’t halucinate and I don’t hear voices. I am just tired, I have just given up. Given up on myself, on dreams, good things. Every day I put on my mask, my normal mask, my yeah, I am sad, but it’ll be okay mask, but I don’t think it’ll be okay. I don’t care about the spring, I don’t care about the colors, the flowers, about that fresh springy smell I always loved. I avoid any situation which could make me happier, I don’t want to be happy again, I am done with ups and downs.
A few years ago, I had a dream. It began in the summer and was over by the following spring. In between, there were as many unhappy nights as there were happy days. Most of them took place in this café. And then one night, a door slammed and the dream was over.
2 comments
Ive always liked the rain i felt it brought everyone down to my level.
I like the feeling of it on my face, not heavy rain of course, but a light rain on my face feels so calming.