Artistic Headrush

There's always something about the rain. The coolness it brings; the sentiments it conjures, and its gentle kiss when it touches the ground.

I can still remember the last rain that I saw when I came back - the smell of wet ground, the noise on the roof, and the soothing raindrops that seem to wash away all your worries. I still can remember the moment when it all came to me, the faint memories of a love long gone - how it began with a simple hello; how it blossomed under the warmth of the sun, guided by the soaring winds of the seasons; how did it endure all the storms; how did it became weak as the sea pounded its sandy foundations; and how did it die like a leaf during fall. All of these rushed into my very senses that faithful moment - their manifestations inevitably enveloped with me, and they rocked me to my core. As raindrops pounded heavily on my face, my heart screamed, creating a nostalgic duet with the roaring thunder above. In the rain, no one would know that you're crying. No one would realize that those are actually tears, and no one would know that you are hurting. I cried my soul out, just to be silenced by the ever-pouring rain. I fell to my knees, hands limping, palms facing the sky, seemingly tired of all the burden. And just as I was about to sink into the mud, I raised my face into the dark skies...

Behind those clouds, I saw a glimpse of the sun.