Rain fell in melodious drops against the pavement.
There was a lot of things that came to mind when he saw rain.
Water. Wet. Cold.
Peaceful. Lulling. Lucid. Calming.
He stared at the sky. Gray, rumbling, powerful. Lightning streaked across the sky, cutting the heavens into pieces. Spiraling and twisting and stabbing in every which way. White against dark gray, almost black.
Clouds were interesting, he thought. Were they white? Somedays.
Were they gray? Sometimes.
Were they black? On nights like this, the answer was yes.
The sky too. It could be blue, it could be red, it could be pink sometimes.
The sky was versatile, he decided.
A bit like the weather.
A bit like the seasons.
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
Hot, Windy, Cold, Warm.
Humid, Leaves, Snow, Flowers.
Rain fell onto his face, cool and refreshing. He was cold. And wet, he realized dimly. Oh well. He'd be dry later. It didn't matter. What was the different between then and now? Things in the present swiflt became the past and the future quickly became the present, before becoming the past as well. It was a cycle, a cycle that could not be broken. Cycle. A cycle that couldn't be broken. Life slipped passed him, sliding through his fingers like sand. As hard as he tried to hold it, it resisted his efforts, until his hand was empty.
Nothing mattered. Life was meaningless. Life went on. People died every day, but life goes on regardless.
No one, no amount of people, nothing could make a mark on history. Everything was forgotten in time. In the end, nothing lasts.
Death is the destination, life is the journey.
Most people say the journey is more important than the destination.
But it's all pointless.
Nothing will be remembered, nothing will last.
Nothing good lasts, and in the end, nothing bad lasts either. The bad does tend to last longer, but in the end, everything fades.
He sat up and rain water fell off his chest, pooling into his lap instead.
He brushed his long black bangs behind his ears. He stared up at the fearsome lightning and heard its scarier, but less dangerous counterpart thunder.
And he sighed.
Not even the storm will last him.