Rule of the Game: I once admitted abnormally using and abusing parentheses in my blog posts or when I’m chatting with people, such that when I’m using them, I feel like “those parts that are enclosed in parentheses are invisible to everyone and I’m the only one who can see them”. So hey, let’s apply that one now just for fun (and because it’s raining and and I’m alone and I might say stuff I’m not supposed to say because they’re too emo or something, and I don’t want my boss to read this icky thing after sortof advising me to use my head more and my heart less).

Is it working? Yay. Ok. Good.

Disclaimer: Some parts of this post are semi-fictional, some are described just as they happened, some are figurative, and some written because I’m suffering major emo attacks (and mostly because of you). So, I duno. (Stop reading here?)

Truth of the matter is, there’s really no point to this blog. Except maybe to stuff additional keywords in time for the rainy season, (such as rain rain go away, rain coats, where to get umbrellas online, I’m singing in the rain lyrics, tuwing umuulan at kapiling ka chords). Or maybe for me to say something about how the rain makes me feel, that’s more like it.

You see, I got home to an empty apartment last night. The sky was red, an indication of a coming rain. I knew I could have just stayed home, curled up under the sheets, and slept whatever-I’m-feeling off. But instead, I took my jacket, brushed the dusts off my old umbrella which I haven’t used for a while, went out for a walk (not really knowing where to go to), and braved the coming rain just for trips.

It was just drizzling at first so I took it all in — the cold air and the tiny droplets of rain into my skin (and I remembered how much I loved the rain because it reminds me of you, and of how you make me feel — calm, steady, grateful, at peace). Soon enough, it started to pour heavily and I knew I could have just opened my umbrella and saved myself from getting soaked, but I didn’t (and I remembered how much I loved walking under the rain and sharing an umbrella with you).

I feel sick ever since, and I’ve been taking paracetamol roundaclock with hopes to stop the fever even before it breaks. I really should have used that umbrella.

(It’s funny how much something as trivial as the sound of the rain can make one feel. You listen to it and soon, everything else stops. Everything but the beat of your heart, and the beautiful tip-tapping sound of the raindrops. Then the silence envelops you, as if taking you away from the world, and then you start to hate how it makes you feel alone. It’s confusing. One moment you love the rain, the next you want it to stop.)

Non-sense. I knew I shouldn’t have started this to begin with.