Of Rains and Nostalgia.

Monsoons '10

I hate the rains. I really, really do.
Especially when they decide to be a bitch and pour all of sudden, without a warning, from a seemingly sunny sky, only long enough to completely drench you from head to toe. Only long enough to make everything muddy and icky. Only long enough to make your clothes wet, ruin your pretty shoes and your mood. It doesn't take too much to piss me off nowadays anyway. But all I can really do is shake a fist at the skies and mutter to myself while I walk off, thoroughly miffed.


Moreover, I hate the rains when they remind me of when they actually made me smile. Of when I would happily wade through water clogs from college to college during admissions, drenched and dirty but with pleasant company and lots of joy.
I hate how it reminds me of long drives in the night, crazy photo sessions, hot corn by the streets and memorable night-outs.
I hate how it reminds me of days well spent, of hearty laughter, of meaningful smiles, of hidden glances, of wet hugs, of happy tears, of music too loud and of nights too short.
I hate that it reminds me of endless phone conversations sitting by the window, sipping on coffee while watching the raindrops fall.
I hate how it wants me to snuggle up with people I love most, armed with a movie, some popcorn and happy smiles.
I hate how it gets me to take the phone in my hand, type the numbers I know too well, sigh and keep the phone back.


  The one thing the rains never fail to bring to me are happy memories and wishful sighs. Funny thing, the rains. They make the most indifferent people yearn for familiarity and love.
Yes, I hate the rains. I really, really do.