Disheartened

Watching the raindrops flow down the window, the glass separating me from that dreary grey sky, I can't help but wonder where I'd be if I wasn't here right now. I don't mean it in the physical sense of what if I wasn't in front of this particular window, I mean here in my life, at this crossroads of intellect and emotion, this intersection of fate.

Even as I look down at scars, and out at the bleak, promise-less future held by the sky, I can't help but smile. I know how I got here. I made the decisions that put me into the position I occupy today. That doesn't really explain much of anything, though. That doesn't tell me what changed or how I came to the conclusions I did.

When did we all become cutters and liars, cheaters and thieves?

I almost wish I had a way to answer that. But whether it's the bleak promise, or lack thereof, for the future, or the soothing monotony of rain, I don't necessarily want to know. I'm just fine here in my melancholy, waiting for everything to transpire around me. I guess that's part of how I got here, too. I sat back and watched the world turn...and the next thing I know, I look around and I'm here.

Maybe that's not such a bad way to live after all.

I'm really not that hurt in this moment. I'm more than a little bit disheartened, admittedly. I'm looking for excuses to forget. Or maybe just finding all the ones I need to not let it go. There's a certain beauty in sorrow, and it's one I don't think I want to miss. Maybe that's why I've always rather liked the rain. People say it washes away sorrows and makes everything fresh.

But rain doesn't really cleanse or clear up anything. It just brings back memories of times past and emotions we once thought were forgotten. It dampens everything, and in so doing, makes everything we feel that much more poignant. I like it that way. It's softly bittersweet. In a way, it's like a poisoned kiss. So calming, yet ending ultimately in demise.

In every error, there is a moral triumph of its own, a certain bliss.