Rain

"Must it always rain for you to think of me?" I entered the text message into the phone. Then I entered her number. And then I paused. The heartache was immense. There was no way I could ever fix it.

Last night I turned my bedroom into the biggest mess the latter has yet seen. Emptying drawer after drawer of old diaries, documents, papers, photographs I scattered then evenly across the floor. Some of them I crumpled as I lay there, my hand extending for whatever they could reach, destruction being the only thing that ruled my unspiraling mind. It was dark and I didn't see what exactly I ended up crumpling until the morning. In the morning I discovered them the be birthday cards. They were signed by people who wished me well and happiness on my birthdays. And now, in my blind ignorance, I've crumpled them like trash.