The rain has always fascinated me. An unstoppable force which has but one direction. Down. And nothing, not even the whims of the wind can change that. Single minded. Determined. Yet, somehow, flexible. Destructive, yet purifying, it stops life for a few moments as we cower beneath shelters, but inevitably, always births it anew.

Fresh. That’s a word that seems to call out to me every time the heavens open up. A fresh start, a new beginning. Never mind how much I’ve been through, never mind how the day has gone, the rains always make me pause for a minute and just appreciate the world around me.

And every time I do, I wonder at how I could have let myself get so caught up in the destination that I have forgotten how to travel. Point A, Point B, keep moving, stay ahead, when did any of that start mattering?

I started this blog on a rainy day, when I felt most in touch with myself. I did it because it felt good. It felt empowering. And I felt like I had something to share with the world.

Then I went right back, pursuing the carrot on a stick, losing my individuality in the process. The blog is testament to that as I left it dormant for over two months. It took another rainy day to make me realize what I’ve been doing. What I’ve been avoiding.

I started this article intending to write about all the emotions the rains inspire in me. Yet, only now do I consider the cause of those emotions. The balance between single minded determination towards a goal and free-spirited enjoyment of one’s every passion is tenuous indeed. A fact only amplified by the amount of freedom one is endowed with in college.

Over the last two years, I have flown wildly between both extremes trying to find that balance and have only done more harm than good. Self-doubt did not exist in my dictionary a few years ago, yet, as I forget who I am and who I wanted to be, it creeps in like mist, obscuring my thoughts, affecting my actions and my intellect. Things that once mattered to me do not seem so important anymore, while other things that should never have mattered at all take their place.

And every time that mist clears for a few moments, when I can see myself clearly, I don’t know who that person looking back at me from the mirror is. I don’t know what he wants, what his dreams are, what his passions are, and I definitely don’t know how to get him to do what needs to be done. I feel lost. Wandering, meandering in the wilderness, waiting for something. Waiting for someone to show me that balance. Waiting for a miracle that will never come.

The day after the rains, the mists return. They always return. But each time they do, they seem to obscure a little less than the last. Just enough to give me hope that someday, they’ll be gone completely. And when they are gone, maybe then I’ll be like the rain. Single minded, yet flexible. Always working towards the goal, but able to follow my heart at the same time. Birthed anew. But unlike the rain, my direction won’t be down. It’ll be up.



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