The Rain

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I like the fact that when it rains, nobody can see my tears. The rain hides them; the rain hides everything. I like putting my hands together palms up and catching the rainwater. I like catching it until it starts to overflow, and when that happens, I just let the water go. I just let it go like I let my tears flow.



I don’t like crying in front of people because it shows weakness. I am strong and that is why I cry in the rain. The rain hides my tears; the rain hides everything. I like looking up at the gray, nebulous clouds and thinking. Simply thinking. I think about a lot of things: the future, the past, the present, the baby birds in the nearby trees, my friends in the park, what I will do, and why I cry.


The last thing is what I always get stumped on. Why do I cry? This makes no sense but I know that everyone cries. Why do people cry? That answer is easy, people cry because they are sad or something has made them sad. But, why am I sad? I cry all the time so that means I am sad all the time.


A drop of water splatters on my cheek. It’s raining again. Lately, it has been raining all the time; it is as if Mother Nature knows exactly how I feel. I like to think that when it rains, it means Mother Nature is crying. I always tell her to stop, but she never listens to me. Mother Nature likes to cry with me, I guess. Our tears mix together and, in that moment, we are one.





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