Rainy Rebellion

I wrote this about two weeks ago or so. It was a brilliant moment of my life. A little short, maybe...

It’s currently raining inside of my bedroom. Suddenly the floor holds along itself, an inch of water. Remarkably, the ceiling is entirely dry. Yet it falls, massive wet drops, soaking everything. I find myself unconcerned with the possibility of my wooden wardrobes destroying themselves as they saturate in the descending water. The couch holds me like a warm pair of arms, safe as the water rises. My mind wanders while I watch it refuse to let up. Then what about the paintings? Should I be concerned about them? It’s raining in my bedroom, what do I have to honestly worry about if a phenomenon that is rather unexplainable is truly occurring? Now as I look, I see myself as rather stubborn. It’s enjoyable really, even when my hair reaches that uncomfortable stickiness and holds itself to my face; I am too stubborn to let it be in any way concerning. I simply let myself enjoy every moment. It’s a rebellion. I realize that now; it’s a refusal. I mean, don’t you understand?! It’s raining in my room! Quite honestly, this might very well be the most marvelous and triumphant moment of my life! Why would I let a little bit of stringy, wet hair get in the way!? It’s raining in my room and the more that this becomes a revelation the harder it becomes to conceal my utter excitement and joy.