I hear the rain outside and it somehow convinces me that everything's all right. It seems to be telling me that even though things aren't going the way I'd like them to, that I should calm down, be patient, go with the flow. It seems to be promising to give me what I want if I only learn a bit of patience.

"All good things come with time." At least that's what everyone's been telling me. I guess they're right, it's just that I'm finding that I have very little patience for some things. Maybe that's what I should be focusing on. Learning how to be patient with myself, with others, and most of all with the things I have no control over. (The last of which seems to be my weakest point.)

The rain has changed its tune. The sound of it sends shivers down my spine and a tingling sensation running across the surface of my skin. It almost feels like when your hand falls asleep and you get the "pins and needles" feeling as the blood starts to flow again.

What is it trying to tell me? Is it trying to tell me that I'm going to have a painful experience sometime soon? Or is it simply trying to tell me that every journey is painful and every arrival to your destination should be appreciated, if not savored for very long.

The wind is cold and blows over me without caring, without compassion. As if to say, "You don't always get what you want. Get used to it." I close the window, not wanting to hear another syllable. But its message stays with me and I know it is right.

Why is it that that thought scares me? If I don't know about not getting what I want, nobody does! I should be used to it by now. I should, but I'm not.

The rain outside has finally stopped and all I can hear is water dripping from the trees and the occasional passing of a car outside on the street. Nothing else is around to ruin the perfect serenity of my silence.

I like the night. n