0x03 Rain

Flareonz44 - March 11 2024

‘Rain alert’ says the weather forecast.
I could have grabbed the umbrella.
It would have protected me.
From what?
I’m already too broken.
Rain is the least of my problems.
Everyone protects themselves from it.
I enjoy feeling it.
Even knowing that it only exists here in Vima.

Many hate to get wet. They don’t like to feel wetness on their clothes. They buy good umbrellas to protect themselves better, not to get splashed with water, not to damage their phone. Because when we are attacked, we protect ourselves. It is a natural instinct. A zebra threatened by a lion will seek to protect itself, to run away from the predator.
So do people. Not because the rain will do anything bad to them, not because it will kill or devour them. People use umbrellas so as not to feel vulnerable in the face of that which, although insignificant, seeks to touch them. It is natural that we create shields to protect ourselves from that which bothers us, from that which we don’t want, or simply to feel safe with ourselves. But in the end, if the rain is strong enough, at least a little bit will get them wet.

I have suffered too much to worry about the rain. When everyone is looking to avoid it, I’m looking to get wet. I let every drop that hits my skin make its way to the ground through my body. Many drops stay on my shirt and will eventually be evaporated by my body heat.
I like them to look at me and wonder why I don’t have an umbrella. I like to see them look at me, every time I run in the rain. I like to feel the adrenaline of danger, of knowing that every step of my run could be a wrong one and make me fall. I like to feel the wind and the smell of the rain hitting me directly in the face, as I move against the wind in a race against no one.

I like when those billions of drops blend with my tears.

While everyone is protecting themselves from the rain, it is the rain that protects me from everything that threatens me. The rain hides my tears among its own. It wets the lens of my glasses and blurs my path, but at the same time protects my eyes from being seen by them.

They feel safe under an umbrella, I feel safe under the rain. Beneath the overwhelming and omnipotent sky.

I was born in a rainy season. Maybe that’s why I always liked the smell of rain. Maybe, somehow I am connected to the rain. Maybe that’s why every time I arrive at my destination wet from head to toe, I wear a smile. Because in my loneliness, it is the rain that takes my tears in its hands and throws them away from me, as if telling me that it’s over, that it’s all right, that I can try again. That it doesn’t matter if I do it wrong, that she will be there to dry my tears.
But every time she walks away, she reminds me that she’ll be back. That she doesn’t know for sure when, but that sooner or later she will come back to meet me. Then I will be able to take refuge in her cool arms.
She always reminds me too, that while she is gone, I should be strong, that I should fight, that I should not let the lion win.

But sometimes, when I fall defeated, I cry alone, far from her arms. And there is no one to wipe away my tears.

In those moments of darkness and loneliness, I constantly watch the forecast, anxiously awaiting the rain alert.

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