Nothing like wine and cheese on a rainy night.
Okay, that was an understatement. There’s practically a thunderstorm outside. But still, it’s perfect. Nothing can set up a mood for writing than eating cheese on french bread while drinking wine under the dimly lit room with mellow songs playing in the background. With the constant flashes of lightning and spatter of raindrops against my window, the mood is set.
But, what to write about? A dark and twisted narrative of my recent shortcomings? A review on how predictably disappointing summer blockbusters are? How about a steamy, passionate perspective on the what-ifs of someone you miss being right beside you when it is heavily raining? No. I’ll write something about love.
How romantic, is it not? I feel a sudden urge wash over me. The feeling of running under the heavy rain. Nothing like feeling lost and found all at the same time. Knowing you’re alone, but you’ve embraced a certain independence with discovering who you actually are. Nothing like screaming at the top of your lungs for nothing. Or for everything. Shouting at the world for the wrongs and rights of life. While heavy raindrops mask your voice, you shout louder. Nothing like singing and skipping on puddles, just to regain the feel for being young again. The feeling of acting silly all by yourself without any hesitation. Having the rain shield you from the judging eyes of society. Nothing like experiencing life first hand under the orders of mother nature.
This is what I call falling a little bit more in love with life.