Rain

I ran out of class hoping I could protect myself during those 15 minutes.

I felt dumb for being unprepared

Because I usually have more foresight that this.

 

I knew I would have to run home by myself.

I couldn’t avoid it, and I didn’t want to duck under someone else’s cover.

But I was hoping, foolishly, that someone would be standing outside my classroom door.

I was hoping that a friend knew I needed help.

Even if I never asked for help, I wish my friends would know when I needed it.

 

I hoped she would be standing outside of class

And drive me in the car I lent her

Because that’s the least you can do for your friend.

You can fill up my tank.

You can buy me a drink.

Whatever.

But I wish you talked to me more like you cared.

Talked to me in a way that I could trust you with my own problems.

 

You can’t fight it

You can’t be mad at it either.

It just happens.

And when you get you finally step in a problem

That’s when you know.

Wet socks are the moment you stop fighting

And start accepting.

 

And I wanted to cry

Because I hated going through it alone.

The obstacles itself is not a big deal.

But it feels like you have nothing and no one to protect you.

And I ask myself, “Where are all my friends who can help me?”

And why do I feel like I have to walk through this alone?

 

They aren’t really there for the bad times.

Why would I want them there for the good times?

Why would I want anyone beside me?

Because I can get through this alone.

I have the patience to walk with wet socks

And still be grateful that I made it home alive.

 

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