The Rain.

I wake up and stare blankly out of the window.

It's raining heavily and I know the journey ahead of me will be difficult.

Slowly blinking at my dark surroundings, I measly fumble around the room for my uniform.

Snatching up from the cold floor from which it had been dumped the previous night, I begin the tedious job of getting presentable.

Pulling of my night clothes, the warm and dreamy scent slowly being peeled off my numb body.

How I longed to be in my warm and cosy bed again.

To shut out the world even if for a second…

…To rest in a heavy state of calm, in a sense of an everlasting limbo.

Now I separate my uniform which lay on my bed in a scruffy black bundle.

I pick up my uniform and assemble it on my cold body which was cruelly snatched from the warmth.

I tenderly snap the buttons into place as if I were completing a puzzle.

Stepping outside the door, the rain now deepens.

Bleakly walking past the neighbouring houses in my long trench coat, I notice the familiar habits of the people who live behind those closed doors.

The curtain twitching visibly showing the neighbours in depth review on the weather and my unusual form of transportation.

The solidarity and calmness of walking soothes any uneasiness that floods into my life like a cold and unfamiliar friend.

Walking to me is like a security blanket to a younger relative.

I cling to the only freedom that hasn't been slowly sucked in by every man, woman or child that required me piece by piece for their plans.

Arriving in front of the foreboding gates, I knew of the trouble that would seep into the fabric of my existence in this place.

But I gather by some connection to the real world that I am not alone in this thought? But what if by some strange coincidence I am alone in a place that swarms with people?

I am alone, only I notice the lost strays and whispers of genius.

I don't cast them out, I welcome them like an old friends.

That's when I notice like a bolt out of the blue what I have become to them.

I am hope and reassurance against the doubts and control that rage inside and outside, all around the people like harsh reality stings.

That's when I notice what message is being sent from somewhere up high.

The message that no one ever reads.

The message the rains brings as it falls to earth so quickly and silently on this misty Monday morn.

A note from someone looking down on me that depression is seeping through.

The crying sky that reminds people of the things they have lost.

Subconsciously reminding us of our troubles.

Whether we have lost a relative, a pet or a friend or even materials things.

I see them slowly sapping away at the people's aura.

I see the loved ones say goodbye and walk onto into the divine.

The lost ones up high cry for us.

They cry for those who are not recognised.

The cry for those who are selfless despite the nature of the media influenced power.

The cry for those who suffer at the hands of others.

The cry for being misjudged.

The unanswered cry that asks "Who is next?"

It is then that I spot him, a scruffy young soul.

He seems to be freshly gone and has come to say goodbye.

Was he my age? I couldn't tell.

And that's when I heard him say a heartfelt goodbye to his friend.

A friend that would never know.

Opening the door, I shake of the outside and all its experiences.

Walking down the crowded corridor, I smell the teenage stench that clogs my nostrils.

I hated this confined restriction to which I was duty bound to continue for years yet to pass.

Their inappropriate thoughts wafting into my pores like a plague.

I could read them like open books, books I just couldn't stand to read.

Slipping quietly down to a deserted corridor, I hunt for my locker.

Knowing that I would be alone until 8.15 I knew I had time to steady my thoughts before she came.

No one came down here at this time; they were too preoccupied in the idle gossip slipping through their minds like pure vodka.

I knew now that this would be the only solitude I would find today or any other day.

And to me this was sheer bliss to be alone and to think completely about the unrestricted thoughts that I can not let out openly.

Opening my locker, I pack in all the unwanted items that I would retrieve at a later time.

Closing silently so as not to draw attention to myself anymore then usual, I carefully snap the padlock into position.

And there in the corner I settle down into it with the cold floor reminding of the outside weather.

8.15 on the dot, she appears.

Standing looking at me the way she always does.

She's worried about me…again.

I know what she's thinking.

I have been distracted lately.

She knows that when it rains, I'm always like this.

It is only in the rain drops I see what others fear, the lost ones, the nightmares, the ghosts.

But I'm not afraid, not anymore.

Lost in myself.

I live amongst the living and dead.

Always longing for…

And living for…

The Rain.