What must she have learned from life that the whisper of the rain speaks louder to her than the shouts of joy from the sun?

What must she believe if she sees her life in constant need of cleansing?

She longs to have her days washed away. She prefers to live in the darkness. Hidden away between the raindrops she does not fear. Her heart matches the rhythm of the rain – beating faster with driving rain in hopes of pushing time along. As the rain slows, so does her heart – mourning the protection of the noise, wistful for the murkiness that once surrounded her. She is immersed in cold, in damp, in cover of all that makes others run away. In the rain she feels alone. Alone feels like peace to her. It has been raining for her many days.

Her days are spent drenched in cold, dripping ceaselessly. The rain calls to her in comfort. There are only shadows here. No one will see the scars. No one will notice the tears. It is where she feels she finally fits in. The rain touches her. She has never been brave enough to allow herself to be touched this way by the sun. Sadness is everywhere in the rain and hers blends in with the rest. Life taught her to listen to the rain.

Her heart is nearly drowning each night. The swells of suffocating rain engulf it as she sleeps. The rain fills her until it slowly drips from her eyes, even without waking her.

And in the morning light she carefully puts on a smile for the world in hopes that, someday, perhaps she’ll hear the sun.

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