It was raining today, and it was good. It was nothing special to see people going home from work on this hour. I was one of those people, walking down the already turned off escalators to the west entrance of the mall I worked in.
It was raining outside, and it was good. It was nothing special to hear people complain about getting home even late tonight. I was not one of those people, as I kept walking past them. I heard shouts from behind, the obligatory “Your jacket’s going to wet, man!” kind. I brushed them off with “It’s waterproof.”, but I’m not really sure if it’s actually is. Then again, it was raining so hard I saw some plastic bags flew quite high above.
It was raining outside, and it was good. It was nothing special to see people here waiting for the rain to end before hopping to their bikes. I was not one of them, for something sparked in my head,
“Go for it.”
I’m quite lucky to prepare some sandals beforehand, so I quickly stored my shoes inside the bike’s storage before turning my free pass to outside the parking lot.
It was raining outside, and it was good. The streets were obviously empty by the time I rode my bike leaving the mall.
There were almost never a time or place I could do these every day, not even at home, nowhere else.
They say Internet was a free place, while actually it was not. By the time somebody you don’t know recognizes you, it’s one of the worst social prison out there. Even though they do mean good, I can’t help but grow suspicious to each of them. When they actually showed me they mean good, all I had was guilt. My self-loathing kind of guilt for not believing in everyone I’m keeping touch with. Not even my families, much less my friends.
It’s good to see I never get taken seriously, even when once in a while I blurted out my self-conscious words of denial. But then I meant it, I was horribly unworthy of any attention I never seek.
It was raining, and it was good. The rain is my only friend since an hour ago. I kept shouting words as the engine kicks hard on the streets. Nobody to talk to, and it was good. Even if I wanted to, I can’t trust everybody.
To be frank, I actually moved in to Ello just for the same purpose I shouted, sang, and cried in the middle of going home in the heavy rain for an hour. To start afresh, to have no bounds even though it was only a short moment.
It was raining, and it was my short moment of freedom. I was so out there I can’t feel the rain on my cheeks.
By the next morning, I'll probably forget how it feels. But I know that there will be next time.
There will be always next time.