Tumoulin Girl

Rain Down On Me

I think this is stress. Everything in my life is new and amazing and scary and exciting but somehow I've only managed to make a total of three posts within four weeks. Even now after I've been able to find my underwear on a record five consecutive days without having to pull my room apart I still can't seem to hold onto a thought long enough to write it down.

I was going to say something about rain, this I know. I'm sure I even told Rachel about my idea. She suggested I write down the thought into a Word document even though our internet hadn't been connected yet, and now as I sit here in befuddlement I realize in retrospect she was right.

One should write down things about rain. It might be important one day.

Yes, I remember reading a line in one of my journals about rain that stuck with me for days. It's a pity I can't remember it now. Maybe rain is like that. It comes and it goes, stealthily and silent. Sometimes it's an onslaught of slicing ice and at other times a gentle whisper of renewing mist.

Ultimately I guess life is like rain. Right now I'm slipping around wildly in a deluge, wondering if there's a way to get the clinging tendrils of wet hair out of my face long enough for me to find shelter to hide under. I'd say it's intolerably cold except I'm not sure it is. I keep dreaming about how wonderful a cave would be hide away in but then, as my other self dreams along these tantalizing lines, my realistic side remembers the dryness of the desert and the death of bordeom it brought.

Thus if life may be like rain then, though, I may fear drowning at the onslaught of stress at least I can say I'm not thirsty.

posted by Lydia @ 8:14 pm