Rain

I used to love the rain. The coolness in the air around me, the laziness generated in me. The craving for a nice bed to lie down, the satisfaction gained from drinking a cup of hot coffee. The feeling of the rain falling on me is undescribeable, it is as though the world has stop spinning, stopping just for you and the rain. No one else crazy enough to be a target for lightning, me, just me alone, with only the pattering sounds of the rain for accompaniment. A sense of calmness, a feeling of simple satisfaction.

Slowly, I grew up to loathe what i used to love. Seeing the rain means a disruption of earlier plans, a disruption of life. It becomes something that hampers my life instead of a kind of simple enjoyment. It draws a sad melancholy, bringing back sad memories. It makes me feel so cold and miserable and imprisoned.

I don't know what sparked the change in me. Maybe it is part of growing up. To be more efficient. To be an adult. A screwed up adult. To be so focused on getting my goal, that I not only forget to enjoy the process, but also fail to enjoy the minor things that nature brought me. That's why i enjoyed that day. The vanishing rain, i felt it again. Not only physically, but also emotionally.