111: something i wrote a long time ago

this is something i wrote in spring, 2007.

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My feet are cold. Yet, it is 30 degrees outside and my roommates are
complaining.

 It's raining outside. Whenever it rains, it pours. The birds and
squirrels hide under the trees. The plants are happy.

 I love the sound of rain. It brings back memories; bad memories and
good ones, too. It makes sure that the past has been real
experiences.

 Sherry is crying in the bathroom. She cries every time the sky
cries. They cry together like they are one. But today, Sherry is
sobbing. Today must be different; something must be happening.

 I think I understand Sherry, unlike most people. I think that when
she cries, she's secretly singing, and I love the songs. I love the
lyrics and all the notes. I love the way she drags them a meter long.
Her face is most beautiful when she cries, but she doesn't cry a lot,
and it doesn't rain a lot.

 I can see people outside, taking each other's hands and drinking
the rainwater in. I want to join them in this celebration. I want to
be part of the rain, make love to the rain.

 But I can't.

 I'm sitting behind a window, and I'm watching, hoping.

 I can't feel my feet. I think I'm dying.

 Sherry, cry for me.