The rain was a good place to hide tears. The darkness a place to hide secrets. To put away all lost feelings. To pretend like nothing at all was wrong. I've done so for the last three months. Being the lucky old me, it was the monsoon season. Leaning against the bare white wall, I stared at the rain streaming down against the large window panes. The mountains are just a smudge of grey and the buildings a dirty beige. It looks like an abstract painting. dashes of this and that. Of everything and anything.
Hope was the last item of the Pandora's box. They said that it was the light at the end of the tunnel, but I say that it is the worst of all sins and vices, for how unassuming it is. To hope is only to allow Icarus' wings to carry you higher, and allow you to fall harder, than ever. The rain had stopped, the sun had yet to appear.
I rose and pressed my forehead against the glass pane, a new day it will be when the sun rises. Hah! a new day, a new beginning, I wonder what fools created such expressions. Oh really, a new day, yeah sure. Others sure haven't forgotten yesterday nor the day before nor the week before nor the decade before nor the century before I was born. They sure wouldn't let me forget, definitely not. Not even in
a far away land.
Feelings of unease had accompanied me
I plunged my hand into my pocket. The glass and cork seemed so comforting, reminding me that I am in control. At rebellious moments, I always felt like going out with a bang, taking the whole world with me. But that won't stop the earth from spinning, would it. Maybe it would. I entertained visions of the earth coming to a sudden halt. Then, the moon would fly out of orbit. The solar system would collapse, and thus like dominoes, the universe will fall. I never believed in heaven, nor in hell, nor any other speculations of after life. It was useless, faith is useless.
