“why is it so?”
the girl asked the raindrop,
“that you are a raindrop, and I am a girl?”
but the raindrop did not answer.
for it was a raindrop, and she was a girl

the girl longed to be the raindrop;
to feel free and undeniable and beautiful,
to lazily slide down the window of a car
that was containing a girl who wished that she was not

she wished to be something more,
she wished to be different from the way she was made.
but she was herself,
and that was not enough for her

“why is it so?”
she wondered sadly,
for she wanted to be more.
she wanted to be the raindrop,
who did not have to answer to the melancholy ponderings
of an innately unhappy girl;
who could not answer,
because it was a raindrop

but, she did not want to be just any raindrop.
she did not want to be one of the millions of raindrops in the sea,
each one blending with the next,
too dependent on the other raindrops to live, to love, to leave.
no, she had already experienced that discomfort of confinement as a girl.

she wanted to be this raindrop,
the one trickling down her window,
blurring the chaotic scene behind it,
unconcerned with the overwhelming dialogue of voices
constantly fighting inside of the head of the girl that was in the car.

she wanted to be this raindrop,
free and undeniable and beautiful.

so, she asked the raindrop its secret,
hoping it would tell her why it was so.
why she was trapped in this body of a girl who was never content,
who never felt at home inside of her own head,
who longed for escape from her reality.

“why is it so?”
the girl despairingly asked the raindrop,
“that you are a raindrop, and I am a girl”

but the raindrop did not answer.
for it was a raindrop, and she was a girl.