rainman

I feel like walking under rain. I want to wash off the tears that never seem to run dry. Getting myself soaked will be a better alternative to this sadness. At the very least I can feel something other than this cheerlessness. I can be a kid again. I will gladly trade anything so I can be rid of the unhappiness that never seem to elude me.

Right now, I just want to walk under the rain. I want to be amazed with the sprinkles rather than the hurt that devours me. I want to catch water on my joined palms, holding something intangible even if it is for an ephemeral moment.

I just don’t want to answer the things I have been questioned of which I have no answers either. I just want to hide this dysphoria.

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FIREFLY

Note: This post is a short story I submitted when I was in college. This dates back 2003. I found it in filing box. Anyway, I still need to encode everything, it’s three pages long so this is an encoding  in progress..

On the morning of  March 2, 2002, a strange warm feeling filled the air. Some spots of the parking lot where I stood had small patches of  puddles left over from a storm the weel before.

I pace back and forth in front of the large station van my sister sat in. She had the windows rolled down – something rarely seen in March. We were both quiet.

Inside the school building, happy students sat in the classrooms, glad there had been a 90-minute delay in opening because of the wet rooms.

I stared down at my black pants, and then my black shoes. I looked at my sister. She sat in the car almost in a daze. She also wore black.

~~~~~~~~~~

S C R E E C H!

The vintage Thunderbird convertible, the last gift her mother gave her on her 17th birthday, came to a halt just in time before it collided with the red jeep one her schoolmates owned.  She was getting claustrophobic in open space. It started at home. She stormed out of  her house the night before  and she drove endlessly for hours, with no definite destination.

She was angry, bitter, raged at most. Rage wasn’t enough to describe what she was feeling right at that moment.

She hated going to all the places that reminded her of her mother. She drove aimlessly. It just felt good to go, with her hair whipping with the wind and the radio blasting in the background.

She’s used to wearing black now – as she intends to do from now on, something definite. Putting on dark make-up has become a routine for her. Dark colors, anything that comes in black,  seemed her power source,  her form of defense against the world that constantly abandons her. She’s not really a very expressive person. How she is coping or what her real feelings are expressed through the clothes she wear and how she looks – very dark and darker, somehow telling the world to stay away from. That’s who or more precisely , what she is now or how others see her now, easily labeled as the orphan girl with a bleak future. She was known otherwise before the tragedy happened.

The bright girl everybody knew, the one who used to light up a room and infect everyone with her happiness is now the girl everybody’s mother warned about.  She tried different vices – she smokes, she drinks, and tried drugs. The friends she knew or she thought she knew were very close to her peeled away from her the moment she shed her old self and tried on a “not normal, not cool” self. She overheard them say how she became freak. She shouted voicelessly at them.

Ashley watched her best friend step out from that wretched car. She didn’t miss the way she lit up the cigarette she pulled out from her purse. She seemed she’s been smoking for a long time. She has changed a lot overtime, Ashley thought. And this was only in a span of two months – since her mother died and after moving in with his father. She knew her well enough to know that what she’s going through is just a phase and she’ll be back to her old self again. Ashley has big hopes that she can regain her best friend back and hug her like she always has. The only question is when. She, along with the others who love her, can only look after her from a distance. They have been shut out from her entirely. She wrapped herself into this hard cocoon that no one has been able to penetrate, not even her. She wishes to have her friend back and be a friend to her – to actually be there when she needs someone to wipe her tears or hold her hand.

“Hey Clara wait up!” Ashley cried out behind her as she headed towards the school building, puffing out smoke with each stride she made, her mailman bag resting carelessly on her shoulders.

“Argh!” Clara breathed silently. Not again. She’s closing in. Shoot.

“I’ll walk with you, ok,” Ashley suggested, hopeful that she can eventually break through the barrier she has built between them. She just shrugged away the fact that Clara w

CLOSING CYCLES (PAULO COELHO)

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment. Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person. Nothing is irreplaceable. A habit is not a need . This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through.

Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished. Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents’ house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back.

Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away. That is why it is so important (however painful it maybe!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment. Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person. Nothing is irreplaceable. A habit is not a need . This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

LIKE THE FLOWING RIVER (PAULO COELHO)

A young cloud was born in the midst of a great storm over the Mediterranean Sea, but he did not even have time to grow up there, for a strong wind pushed all the clouds over towards Africa.

As soon as the clouds reached the continent, the climate changed. A bright sun was shining in the sky and, stretched out between them, lay the golden sands of the Sahara. Since it almost never rains in the desert, the wind continued pushing the clouds towards the forests in the south.

Meanwhile, as it happens with young humans too, the young cloud decided to leave his parents and his older friends in order to discover the world.

“What are you doing?,” cried the wind. “The desert’s the same all over. Rejoin the other clouds, and we’ll go to Central Africa where there are amazing mountains and trees!”

But the young cloud, a natural rebel, refused to obey, and, gradually, he dropped down until he found a gentle, generous breeze that allowed him to hover over the golden sands. After much toing and froing, he noticed that one of the dunes was smiling at him.

He saw that the dune was also young, newly formed by the wind that had just passed over. He fell in love with her golden hair right there and then.

“Good morning,” he said. “What’s life like down there?”

“I have the company of the other dunes, of the sun and the wind, and of the caravans that occasionally pass through here. Sometimes it’s really hot, but it’s still bearable. What’s life like up there?”

“We have the sun and wind too, but the good thing is that I can travel across the sky and see more things.”

“For me,” said the dune, “life is short. When the wind returns from the forests, I will disappear.”

“ And does that make you sad?”

“It makes me feel that I have no purpose in life.”

“I feel the same. As soon as another wind comes along, I’ll go south and be transformed into rain; but that is my destiny.”

The dune hesitated for a moment, then said: “Did you know that here in the desert, we call the rain paradise?”

“I had no idea I could ever be that important,” said the cloud proudly.

“I’v e heard that older dunes tell stories about the rain. They say that, after the rain, we are all covered with grass and flowers. But I’ll never experience that, because in the desert it rains so rarely.”

It was the cloud’s turn to hesitate now. Then he smiled broadly and said:

“If you like, I could rain on you now. I know I’ve only just got here, but I love you, and I’d like to stay here for ever.”

“When I first saw you up in the sky, I fell in love with you too,” said the dune. “But if you transform your lovely white hair into rain, you will die.”

“Love never dies,” said the dune. “It is transformed, and, besides, I want to show you what paradise is like.”

And he began to caress the dune with little drops of rain, so that they could stay together for longer, until a rainbow appeared.

The following day, the little dune was covered in flowers. Other clouds that passed over, heading for Africa, thought that it must be part of the forest they were looking for and scattered more rain. Twenty years later, the dune had been transformed into an oasis that refreshed travellers with the shade of  its trees.

And, all because, one day, a cloud fell in love, and was not afraid to give his life for that love.

A beautiful way of expressing that true love is selfless and it transforms.