The sounds of the earth can be found within us.

As the rain makes denting sounds on the rooftops, our tears patter onto our pillows.

As the wind sears through our hair and into our ears, our wrists can move in such a was as to fan ourselves, and in that sound is created as well.

So it is a truth that weather has emotional influences. And the rain makes me sad. But not only because rain is portrayed in movies as sadness. As during funerals or after the main character gets his heart broken, we can practically predict that the rain will cue and in turn tell us, the viewer, that is is time to be sad.

Maybe that is a factor as to why the rain makes me sad, and why that energy in turn makes small things in my day go wrong. However I would like to entertain the idea of relating to the clouds on a personal level as to why I feel such gloom and depression.

Because the clouds, like me, hold everything in.

Maybe they’ll sprinkle every once and a while, but nobody brings concern to a sprinkle. There’s no harm in it, and so it goes forgotten.

From the experience of being virtually ignored, the clouds learn to hold things in, to let the sun shine through and tell everyone “no worries! It’s a good day today!” While behind the softness, a storm is brewing, yet no one thinks of a storm until the clouds turn dark and grey, until it is too late.

The wind starts picking up, the sky grows black, and looms over the sun, blocking the world’s visual happiness.

But the clouds don’t mean to impose. They never do.

They’ve just held it in for so long, scared of making people unhappy, as they always do. But they don’t have the satisfaction of holding it in anymore.

And down it pours.

Soaking into my pillow.