When I was younger, I used to get really upset when it rains in my town.
People were running…clouds that blanketed the sky desaturated everything underneath it. It would always start off with a thunder, with a sound like a smoker’s attempted cough. Twisted and violent. And then came the colored wind. Sometimes it’s golden, other times scarlet, but mostly a sickening yellowish gray, taking its color from the sandstorm that roams to my humble hometown of Tianjin from the mighty Mongolia. Finally, the rain started to fall. At first drop by drop. A dog baring its teeth before attacking. Too cautious to go all over its prey. Then when the startled pedestrians began to flee, it knew it’s time to pursue and move in for the kill. That’s when the rain rivered down from the heavens. It was LOUD. Triumphing over us puny human beings, the rain brutally knocked down those dusts and dirt that drifted restlessly in the air and mated with them there and then. Then their watercolor-brush-wielding offspring (They must have been using heavily diluted watercolor, I’m sure of that.) painted weird pictures in my mind, and desperation was the theme.
That was what rain meant to me. I guess when we were young, things tend to look bigger and more serious in our eyes. Like when I walked home with that 5th grade result slip marked with a ruby red F. Damn, how I felt like Armageddon then. I disliked mathematics just like I did the rain. One being too orderly, the other utter chaotic.
Now, a man grown, I lost too many things along the way while picking up others. Eventually, I just stopped to care anymore. The job, the relationship, the fortune and fame.
All are mere dusts. One day, they’ll all get washed away by those muddy rain from my past. If I see the kid from yesterday ever again, I’ll wipe the tears from his eyes, take the result slip with that ruby red F, and tell him,
“You will be fine.”
It starts to rain again now. But lucky for me, rainy day emo is for amateurs.