The raindrops have thoughts. Did you know?

The wild rain is pounding hard on my windows, like a bunch of grifters trying some small-minded scheme on me.

It’s like they had something to say, and had nothing to say at the same time. Just make that pim-pim noise.

The sound of it makes my muscles unwind, my breathing slow down, as I’m sinking into the soft pillows of my couch, under my beige puffy blanket.

It is 6:38 AM, and this essay is insightful. I left it aside now to write a few lines.

As I peer outside, through my window, into the grey light of a rainy day, I get the blues. And I imagine myself in the box I wrote about years ago. The one that was placed in the middle of an old room, with a Coca-Cola waiting for me near the box, on the floor.

I was silent, and everything around me was, except the raindrops that pounded on my windows. The big drops saw me crouched in my box, leaning on my back, with my knees at my chest, and my arms around them, waiting for a sign.

They chatted; clearly, they had a gathering and were picking up information about me.

They studied me.

They slid slowly, slower, slower, and slower down my window, watching me from different distances. But I was the same. My eyes were big, staring right at them, asking them how it feels to be outside my window, sliding down.

But I could hear nothing, and I thought they had no thoughts whatsoever, and my questions were all in vain.

But they did have thoughts.

They had a hive mind, that’s what I couldn’t imagine back then.

They saw me multiplied, like I was on multiple screens at the same time, in their visual field.

They saw me scared, joyful, laughing, crying, loving, daring, and numb.

Multiple raindrops gathered now in a single place, making a bigger droplet.

This enhanced their image, and I now had even more moods and states of being.

All of a sudden, I started feeling better, my heart rate slowed down a bit, and I felt the need to go out and stretch my muscles. Then it hit me like a dagger – I was humiliated. That’s why I decided to come here in this box, where is dark and safe. Separated from everyone else.

I relived that too, which lasted for a few seconds, when the third mood brushed against me like a warm shoulder – gratitude.

I felt sympathy for that girl who was having a hard time when she was little. I hugged her and told her everything was going to be okay. And that she’s the luckiest girl on the planet, and things will flock around her like bees to the color yellow. This will be nothing more than a drop of water in a glass.

Sometimes the glass pours over, and we go again. We start over.

Sometimes the glass is full, and we keep it that way.

Sometimes the glass is half full, and we see it that way

Sometimes it is half empty, and we see it that way

And sometimes the glass is empty and we keep it that way, until we see a raindrop on our window that is able to stir our thoughts and remind us yet again of ourselves.

I bet you had no clue that raindrops have thoughts, but they do.

They do-do-do.

So the next time you’re feeling blue, imagine what they think about the multitudes of you within you.

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Sending love,

D