When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day.

It's like being in a drought.

There is only one thing you desire. Rain. And even if the rainstorm doesn't pick your street, your city, even your province to rain on, it's still rain. It's still the most wonderful, refreshing feeling in the world. The rain doesn't intend to give you that which you've wanted for so long, although that doesn't change the elation that comes over you when you feel the first drop on your forehead.

The rain may say, "I'm headed to Saskatchewan!" But you still love it. Even if you're just a stepping stone. An intermediate, a color to be layered. Just a piss break on the road to a destination.

That's the hardest thing to accept, when the rain finally stops and all that remains is the overcast sky and grey reflection in the puddles it brought. It never really chose you. It's intentions were not to make you happy.

It just did.

"Have you ever let a romantic moment make you do something that you knew was stupid?"