It rained last night.
Not your literal water droplets from the sky as a result of water cycle.
They were drops of feelings.
They were drops of respect.
They were drops of fantasies.
They were drops of love.
For HIM.
I refuse to believe it.
He cannot be gone.
No. Please. No.
Someone please tell me the news is false.
Someone please shut the world away from me.
Someone please hold me back.
Because I might lash out on the next person who says that he's gone.
I can believe that Hans Gruber died.
I can believe that Col. Brandon died.
I can believe even believe that Severus Snape died.
But don't you fucking tell me that Alan Rickman died.
Don't. Please. Don't.
Don't tell me to stop crying.
Don't tell me to forget.
Don't tell me to come out of this shell.
Because I don't want to.
In my shell, there's no darkness.
There are even unicorns who shit rainbows in my shell.
In my shell, there's Robin Williams.
In my shell, there's Michael Jackson.
In my shell, there's Alan Rickman.
In my shell, there's sunshine... Always.
But it rained last night.
And I didn't run for cover.