I continue to refuse to carry an umbrella, so I make do. I wait out the rain, lucky I always have a book or a journal or something to do. Or, I turn one of my many book bags into a makeshift rain cover and carry on. Or, if all else fails, I just walk through the rain, after all I do not melt.
Yesterday, however, I felt like the sky was crying the tears I couldn't manage to make fall from my eyes.
Like a small child fighting sleep, I resist the tears that well and therefore cannot get any relief.
I imagine the relief on the other side, but I can't convince myself it will be alright ... the tears will fall, you will brush them aside and life will go on. I see myself in the tight ball on the couch or clutching at the floor wildly or simply becoming a puddle on the floor and I can't. I just can't.
I was thinking, if I have learned anything in graduate school it is to believe in myself. But there are some beliefs I can't seem to grasp yet.
There is always tomorrow and rain in the forecast through the weekend.
The blessing of relief may come yet.
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