Rainy Day Sundays

Rainy days like these with Colbie Caillat in the background make me think of the alternate universe I would’ve had if there weren’t too much limitations governing the one I’m living in. Wooden benches and wooden fences, surrounded by greens and natural scents of floral blossoms. A pad on my lap, a pen at hand, birds flying across the blue blue sky, while I write my heart out about the beauty that many tend to overlook. Finding love and finding peace would be easy, because that world I long to belong to has no space for hate and frowns. I constantly dream, in between subconsciousness and alertness, of those little cottages and frilly dresses, of simple lives and loaves of bread. In my childish heart, there’s no luxury like simplicity and normalcy. I wonder why humans strive to leave that life our race once had and insist on living with too many complexities. Weren’t we supposed to live life happily and not stressfully? Weren’t we given talents and skills we’re meant to hone and not ignore? Growing up is not as fun as I thought it would be. Because I’m forced to see the reality and accept it, adapt with it. Yes, I’m gradually becoming free, but what use is that when the world you anticipated to be full of rainbows and sincere laughter turned out to be a misleading, hypocritical, worst case of boggart you’ll ever see?

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