By most counts, most people would peg me as a warm, sunshiney kind of person, but there are times when the rain brings about emotions that the brightest rays of UV in all their glory cannot. Tonight, its raining the emo-rain. In spades. Bucket-loads. The proverbial cats and dogs, if you will.
I don’t know if its the soft but persistent patter of the raindrops; the odd flashes of light that illuminate for instant; the increasing growl of built-up vibrations that finally burst into deafening roars; or the sight of water, like tears, pouring from the sky, but rain tends to make me feel alone and alive, all at once.
I love sticking my hand out of the window when there’s a huge storm, feeling the rain patter down from all the way up there to all the way down here. Where has this raindrop been? Has it melted off the nose of a fox in the Alps? Has it rushed along together with countless other droplets in the mighty Amazon River? It makes me more connected to the world than ever, with this water that could have come from anywhere, yet this sense of loneliness trickles in when my hand shivers because its cold out there.
Staring at a downpour through the window also gives me the urge to run outside and dance in it, but sadly the urge to stay dry and flu-less generally overpowers that, although one day, I think, I will.