It had been raining for 3 weeks straight, a slow and steady pitter patter that created puddles and muddy grounds everywhere it could.
Then again, what else is to be expected of Seattle?
I waited for the bus, watching people as they walked by, heads huddled in the hoodies of their coat, hands buried deep into the seam of their pocket. They looked to the ground as they walked, careful to not to let any part of their face become drizzled by the rain. God forbid. Don't fuckin' talk to me, their demeanor said. In fact, don't even fuckin look at me.
It was depressing. The rain and the grey helped only to add to the cheerlessness and miserable feeling.
I've heard it said that when you think warm thoughts, you forget or deal whatever sad situation that you're in. Sort like in the movie ' Sucker Punch', where these girls create this alternative reality to deal with the fact that they were in a mental institution.
So I tried to remember the sun, tried to remember feeling it's heat on my back while laying on the beach. I tried to remember how I felt the time I got so incredibly sunburned, even the locals felt bad for me. All I got were images, quick flashes of my photographic memory that gave me scenes of what I experienced, but did not invoke warm feelings that I had with those memories. Perhaps the rain and the grey had sucked that out of me, leaving me only to dwell on the depressiveness of life.
One day, I always vow to myself, one day I will drop everything and leave for a sunnier life. Then surely, life itself will be better.
But the words end up being worthless promises said to stir up what hope can be begotten and I end up walking among those people I had watched, the depressed ones with their heads huddled, hands buried, looking towards the ground thinking fuck this, fuck the rain.