By chris-chris92 on Skatehive
What’s left of this final stretch of the year, I’ve deliberately chosen to live it with a bit of fatalism. Starting each day without expecting anything at all. Like some dull, repetitive loop of a loop, empty and uneventful. I have my reasons, of course, but honestly, they’re nothing extraordinary. I wish I could make them sound deeper, more interesting, but the truth is, they’re not. The rain becomes both an excuse and a kind of poetic permission, just like in the title, to let out what’s inside me. And there’s nothing particularly groundbreaking there, nothing innovative. But it does have me stuck in a strange state of being. Like I’m running on a trial version of myself. Some switches are off, and I can’t seem to find where to turn them back on. Certain things, like joy or liveliness, no longer feel like they belong here. For months now, I’ve been drifting, wandering through that over-romanticized mix of melancholy and darkness. Like walking through the aftermath of a storm, where e