I always keep the windows of my room closed , specially during the day. I really hate the sun and the sunshine flowing inside my room through the windows. I have no valid reason to explain why I hate sunshine. Perhaps , because life isn't "sunshine" for me. Anyway , the only time I open my windows is when it is all dark and a storm or heavy rain is about to come. I have this thing for rains like butterflies have towards bright flowers. I hate the sun as much as sunflowers love it. I like my room dark and sultry. I like it that way. The only thing which I welcome into my room is the rain or the strong winds.
Whenever it's about to rain I open the windows and let that etherial darkness of the clouds fall on me , my bed and my entire room. I sit by the window and let the wind mess my hair and the raindrops brush my face. I collect raindrops in the palm of my hand like a kid and somehow it gives me some kind of an eerie pleasure. I draw close and let the rains wash my face , I cry sometimes along with it like a fool. I feel the raindrops will hide my tears. Now if you ask me why do I cry , I perhaps will never be able to tell properly. There is just something in the rains which brings back so many things , which makes me realize so many things , but it keeps me happy. I sit with my sketch book sometimes trying to sketch the things I love or listen to The Smiths. The rain leaves me in a emotional , confused state each time. But still , I will prefer the rains to sunshine. I can't let sunshine come in and fake a smile , I'd rather let rains fall on me and get wet. I'd rather make a paperboat and float it in a puddle than let the sunshine keep me hale and hearty. My mother wishes that every morning I must open the windows and she believes one day I will let the sunshine in. But till then I'll just sing Burt and B.J Thomas's "Raindrops keep falling on my head And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothing seems to fit
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling
So I just did me some talking to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
Sleeping on the job
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep fallin"
Some days are for sleeping through morning heat, for eating breakfast slowly and nursing a mug of coffee over several hours—for reading at a pace that lets the words sift and settle into your mind, for cleaning your space unhurried and lighting a candle. Some days are for wrestling with big questions in the peace of your own home and for coming to terms with the fact that you don’t know all things and you never will, and that’s okay. You have your questions and your pen and paper, and you have time. Let the questions give you room to wander with your pen, and never miss an opportunity for rest when it comes.