20 10 / 2011
Sometimes, When It’s Raining
By 
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I think about you. I think about you all the way over there, with all that ocean and all those years between us. I think about if you’re doing well, what your bedroom looks like, if you enjoy your job. I think about the times when there wasn’t any ocean between us and my time was your time. I think about when I knew the answers about you, because they were my answers as much as they were yours. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I wonder if it’s raining where you are too.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I pretend I’m kissing you. I pretend we’re lying in bed all morning with the grey half light and the patter of rain on the roof and the sloshing sound tires make on the bitumen as they speed by the window outside. I pretend you’re bringing me tea and we’re sitting side by side in bed reading the paper, you telling me the comics and me failing at Sudoku. I pretend we’re playing Quiz Master and we’re winning. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I close my eyes and pull the duvet over my face, and pretend you’re breathing by my side.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I feel a little lonely. The grey sky reminds me so much of London’s sky, the greyness that enveloped us, even in the summer. I miss my friends, my family, you, especially when my feet are wet and I’m so far from home. I wonder if you’re thinking about me too, and I know you’re not, and I get to feeling so isolated and worn out. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I wish I really was alone, that I had nothing in the past, and only a moment to hide from the world while the sky releases madness.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I listen to love songs. I plan my wedding and it’s not to you, even though I once thought it would be. I sashay across my room and concoct fantasy love stories in which someone falls for me, madly and passionately. Not the way that you did but in a way which would last forever with every conceivable grandness announcing its arrival. I think about falling in love again, and I promise myself I will, one day. Then I put that promise inside a box, and I put the box in my pocket. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I like to make believe.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I begin to feel alive. I start to have those clichéd thoughts like “everything is washed away”. I think of you fondly, without remorse or longing, and decide that the rain will bring me a new beginning. My mind clears and I begin to see the future spanning before me, as I turn away from the past laid out behind. There are ways for me to say goodbye and when it’s raining, sometimes I say them all in whispers you’ll never hear. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I like to run outside in all my clothes, and let the water to soak through to my skin. 
18 9 / 2011
Figuring Out Who You Are I could have a good business sense. I could be a person who understood logic more than emotion. I would excel in school and get good marks but fail to understand how people worked. I could feel like a stranger to myself, unable to figure out why I felt the things I did, but I would end up being very rich and smart and respected. But I’m not that person. I could be good with money. I could say no to cab rides and eating out and that really cute shirt at APC. I could be a person who gets excited about finding a deal, who spends hours searching for the cheapest option. I could be someone who had saving and wasn’t perpetually broke the day before payday. I could not spend so much money when I’m drunk and learn to stay home in order to save money. But I’m not that person. I could love everybody and not pass judgement within the first five minutes of meeting someone new. I wouldn’t talk shit and gossip behind people’s back. I would accept things at face value. I wouldn’t question people’s motives. LIVE AND LET LIVE OR WHATEVER. Yeah, I’m not that person, you freak! I could date a lot and not be so scared of online dating or giving someone my number. People do that, you know! They give strangers their phone numbers. Can you believe it? Just thinking about such a brave act gives me anxiety, but these people aren’t scared. They just put themselves out there like it ain’t no thing. I am in awe of these types of people. I am not them. I am not that person. I could be a problem solver. I could whip together a dinner using whatever ingredients were lying around. i could learn how to fix repairs and save myself money. I could know how to survive in the woods with no food or water. But I’m not that person. I could belong to an organized religion. I could be a joiner and find comfort in the collective. I wouldn’t be so inquisitive and I’d accept simple answers to complex questions. I wouldn’t be so scared of dying because I would feel like I already knew what was going to happen. I could rely on a higher power in times of conflict. I could be fulfilled by going to church and reading scriptures. But I’m not that person. Sometimes in order to figure out who you are you have to think about who you aren’t. I’m not any of the aforementioned things and sometimes that makes me sad and sometimes it makes me relieved. But creating this kind of list helps me feel okay about my choices and shortcoming and, in some cases, my strengths. In the wise words of Ashlee Simpson, I am me!
