It’s 12:19 am.
I’m tachycardic. Probably because of the coffee. Or maybe because I haven’t been drinking my anti-thyroid meds for two weeks now.
My heart beats fast following the rhythm of raindrops on our roof.
I’m wide awake. And it’s one of those nights my thoughts are difficult to silence.
I’m sitting right here in front of a book I am reading for days now. The wind is cold. And the sound of the rain flashes back memories.
Memories when days are still normal. Days when I can go to a coffeeshop, sit there all day ’til I finish my book and my coffee gets cold. Days when I could travel, visiting unknown places, discovering new routes, and meeting amazing people. Days when I can go out and savor the cold harsh sensation of rain dropping on my face. Days when we’re all happy and free.
The rain is getting heavier. So are my thoughts. I can feel it. Drop by drop. One thought after another. Pouring out.
And like the rain that can’t be gathered when it reaches the ground, my thoughts, too, are scattered all over the place. Cold and relentless.
But it keeps pouring out.
Like the midnight rain.