just a box of rain

it's not that it does not work, just that it's hard. damn hard. but then, like i said earier, it's like a bad habit that needs to be unlearnt. all you need is patience. detached patience. you will keep failing, but persist and the rate of failures will go down. catch is, patience was never one of my virtues. and persistence even less so.

so i try to zone out the noise and focus on my box of rain. my mind is a room, and it's stored in the corner, by the wall, under the mirror (significant) and in the second drawer of the chest. hidden in the best disguise: obvious-ness.

in my mind, i walk to it, pull open the drawer, and pull out the 'box'. not really a box, but we are being metaphorical. i pull out the contents. let's say, for the sake of maintaining the masks and fronts, i pull out a rainy evening. the sky looks silver grey. the shingles are wet and glossy. the tree sway as if to shake off the little drops of water. and a lone bird sings. the sun looks ... there you see, it brings me right back to the f sun! there must be some way outta here? however, its much easier now having made up my mind. the point is, you have to fall out of love with the old ways, and open your mind to the new. and the way will come and find you. there's nothing admirable about cowardice. but then, who am i to cast the first stone. what have i ever been if not craven?

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