Rain.

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When clouds would gather up in the sky, I’d always hope for rain. The reason has not changed in all these years. The reason has always been the search for happiness. The only difference is the way to search for it. As a child, I used look at sailing paper boats and that used to be enough to make me happy. When I entered adolescence, paper boats no longer were a source of happiness. But then there were other things.

         The rhythm the raindrops played when they met the ground. The smell the wind carried of the soil. Rain seemed like a musical messenger greeting the green residents of my garden and they, out of pure happiness, dance to its beautiful melody. I had begun to appreciate the beauty of nature and that provided me with happiness.

          But as time changed, things changed. Today, when I see those clouds, I still hope for rain. And when it rains, I stand in the open ground, under the raindrops, just with the belief that maybe these raindrops provide solace to my soul and wash away my scars, scars that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. Standing there, drenched in the rain, I wish to find happiness within those tiny rain drops. It has been a year but the rain still has not helped. The rain that once used to be the reason for my happiness has now started to remind me of all the pain. The leaves of my garden turn greener with every falling drop of rain but so do my wounds. The weather starts to turn cold and so does my heart…

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