Rain depresses me, and always makes me think about my dreams that seem washed away. I’ve always wished that I was one of those kind of people who could see the cleansing beauty of the rain, as if it was scrubbing their souls of life’s worries and laments.

I’m not full of a lot of regrets, but the ones that I have seem impossibly heavy; the missed opportinities I didn’t take, and the times I’ve lept before I’ve looked weigh down my sprit.

Today, as I was sitting under a tree, letting the rain splash down my head like giant tears, was no different. I cried along with each drop, wailing like a colicky infant.