Pouring. Literally.

I live in Chicago. The city in the winter is usually poker-faced with an emotionless, blustery gray. The wind was vicious as always, and the dirt-flecked slush was wilting in the streets.

The winter has been long. Too long.

The rain always puts me in a bit of a contemplative mood. For some people, it makes them depressed. For me? It’s soothing.

I’m thinking of the things that will happen. Amidst the brainless homework and everything with school, I know that somewhere under all that stuff, something is beginning.

I’ve been talking a lot about starting anew, I know. I just don’t know how. Or what.

But today it is raining, and I feel that now it is truly spring, something, something is finally, slowly beginning.