I call her Rain.

Looked forward to rain all my life. Blocked out the furnace in the sky, slowed down the never stopping progress. made people afraid to step out, made them run from the fear of getting wet and then there was me. The wetter the better. I was always prepared for rain. 

My technology protected by processed fossil fuels, my feet dry from the trekking shoes that have and will most probably never be used for a trek. The expensive time on my wrist, sealed tight.

I cant read the weather but my guesses with the rain were always on point. From drizzle to downpour, I made sure there wasn't any shelter to keep us separate.

One of the things we can't predict is a shit storm and that is exactly what I thought I was immune to until it really hit. Like the horsemen of the apocalypse, it was brutal and unforgiving. It shouldn't have come for me but it did.

And then the rain stopped. clouds would just tease me and pass me by without a single drop. unfortunately I lived long enough to find myself at the point that I would start hating rain, doubting it and secretly fearing it.

Summer was supposed to be shady trees, open grasslands and refreshing watermelons. It was nothing more than heat strokes, deserts and vultures.

Winter was supposed to be warm, pure and intimidating but it never came

Rain was supposed to be fun, caring and full of life but like the others, it wasn't.

"You have an alcohol problem now."

That was life. A series of random reality checks that hits you and then its drugs and alcohol till you forget what life said.

Where shall I go from here? I want to give up but there is still possibility of Spring and autumn existing. I never liked the 'pursuit of happiness'

I really liked Rain. Maybe she will come back. Do I want her to come back?

Loud music and aggressive drinking.

END