Saturday, November 1, 2008

It's raining

Why does everyone like the rain? I've heard things from "the smell" to "the sound" to "the somber, downplayed beauty of it". I don't like the rain. Most people I know have lived their whole lives in one big sunny day. They've never had reason to appreciate how beautiful it is to see a big blue sky, white clouds, yellow light bright, and all that other shit.

The rain makes me sad. Whenever it rains everything gets all grey, so dark & drab. The buildings now look like they're standing sadly, and everyone dresses up in muted colors. Rampant we are not in the rain.

When it rains it's like the sky is crying. How is such an all encompassing sadness something to look forward to? "Oh, it's raining? You're so lucky!" Yeah, right. I'm SO lucky to be stuck inside, watching the world drown in a downpour that reminds me of my own inner-sadness.

And it's not that people even really like the rain itself. People like the rain because of things they associate with it: putting on nice coats, watching from the window while reading, the next day when suddenly the sky seems cleaned out, how the colors come back all vibrant, as if making up for lost time, and then you go outside to a seemingly brighter life and jump around in a puddle.

But the rain itself! Soaked to the bone, riding your bike back from another lonely school day. Stepping through newly created rivers in the street so that you fall on your ass in front of busy, apathetic commuters. Running from awning to blessed awning so that your manuscript doesn't get damp and the ink runs everywhere. Being stuck in the same place, unable to even go for a walk the one time you really need to get out. That's what I'm reminded of when it rains.

So, yeah... I don't like the rain. I'd rather ten thousand sunny days all the same than one single dampened, overwhelming sadness. Is that too naive? Too simplistic? I guess right now I'm just so very much in the mood to protect myself from whatever might remind of anything and everything. But that won't work. So I guess I am naive.

Dry eyes, wet sky, snuggled up in my parka all I really want is hundreds of hundreds of miles away and there's nothing I can do and she doesn't know what or whatever. What was a fucked-up pathetic idiot loser like myself thinking there was ever a chance it could work out? Girls like that don't love guys like me. Guys like me are always side-lined, always a fond memory, and meanwhile, the women we love, loved, move on, crying like they think they should, but never sad enough to realize what they're doing. (Because if they really loved you, how could they ever, ever do anything else but be with you.)

But who's to blame them? They're so much better than we deserve. I wonder if in the years to come I'll look back and think I was lucky to get heartbroken by such a woman. I wonder if I'll really start to subscribe to such bullshit rationality, pretending this pain is a good thing.

Right now, I'd still do it all over again. So, I guess I just might.

That's another reason I don't like the rain. Stuck inside my room all I can do is think too much. Sometimes you need someone to save you from yourself. And that's when you know life really is as cruel as people say, because you realize you have no one to talk to. Or not even that, but no one you want to talk to, because the only person you want to talk to isn't ever going to talk to you again.

"Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. . . . It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life (1977)

Gawd... give me back the sun so I can at least pretend everything isn't really so terrible.

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