Rain (for myself)
It was raining outside,
and I still chose to be wet,
forgetting that I was allergic.
Rain felt calming.
Rain felt like a place
where no one could see me cry.
It was raining outside,
and I chose to stay
for the calm, for the quiet,
for the sound that gently shut my mind.
The rain slowly stopped,
but the wet stayed on my skin.
People looked at me strangely,
nothing else was wet but me.
They asked where the rain came from.
I said, here. It was heavy.
Their skin was dry.
They smiled.
I chose to be wet
in chaos where calm seemed to exist.
I chose the allergies
while comfort could have been found elsewhere.
I chose the rain
because it was shared.
It was soothing,
but my body never liked it.
It was calming,
but it hurt me in the long run.
Like standing under the rain.
Like choosing to stay wet.
Like choosing someone
even when it costs myself.
Then the rainbow came.
The rain stopped.
The sun began to rise.
I saw my wet self in the mirror.
She didn’t look like herself.
She looked like someone
who fell too hard,
lost herself
while searching for calm
that was never meant to hurt this way.
She was covered in allergies,
barely breathing,
yet still standing.
Not because she couldn’t leave,
but because she kept choosing to stay.
I lost myself in the wet
and learned to pity the dry.
All because I fell too deep.
Not again.
Not getting wet again.
Not anymore.
The wet self faded,
and so did the allergies.
She woke up
after everyone else disappeared.
Now she stands still,
no longer in the rain.
She chooses the space under a roof—
no storm, no glare from the sun.
Just quiet.
Just herself.
And Jingga....
a name born from a sunset,
from a brief moment of warmth,
from a time when the sky was orange
and beautiful,
and something gentle sat between us
without asking for anything.
That moment can stay there.
So can the rain.
The wet is over.
The sun is rising.
This calm day
belongs to me.