It was a rainy day, and the sun had already hidden behind the clouds. I picked up my pen but couldn't write anything down. I knew that my heart had already begun to run aground, and the clouds in my heart began to obscure the sunlight. But I was still trying to draw that stroke. The scarf in my hand was tightly gripped, holding onto just memories, but unable to recover the layers of pain that had been missed. If I say I'm fine, it must be a lie. Falling in love with rainy days and looking forward to the rain has become a shadow in my heart.
The night has started to approach, and the rain shows no sign of stopping. Perhaps it's waiting for my mood, waiting for me to step out of the shadow. The water layer under the pavilion splashes when stepped on, producing those teardrops. I've long been indifferent, knowing that reminiscing is all superfluous, and the long night still needs to be spent alone. Clutching the red scarf you gave me, what I hold in my hand is warmth, but what I can't hold onto is the heartache. Maybe I should learn to let go, giving myself more space. Watching the rain keep falling, hoping it will never stop. The rainy day is too beautiful; I want to be silent, quietly lighting a cigarette. Loneliness burns completely, in the form of smoke, winding around me, accompanying me left and right. It makes me cry, satisfying its desire, and my heart will become shattered.
Looking at the stars in the sky, smiling by the moon, I wish this night will become very beautiful, letting me get drunk until oblivion. You don't have to think of me; reluctance is just a kind of pity. I hope you will walk better than me. I will appropriately delete memories, preserving some traces of being hurt. Just let the rainwater wash away my last tear. The celestial music gradually approaches silently, and I quietly leave this scenery, with just one more...silent picture in the previous second. Carving beauty on the stone steps, perhaps it will become eternal, so let me feel with my heart, the emotions that the rainy day brings me.
I don't use an umbrella, soaking myself in the last inch of dryness. Birds in the rain have no direction to avoid the mysterious blows. My thoughts of you are interrupted at this moment, completely yielding to your intention to leave. Please forgive me... please forgive my ruthlessness this time. But I still remember, on this day of last year's season, you held an umbrella and consoled me for my just-received injury, giving me another mistaken flutter of the heart. So impulsively, I wrote you into my article, making me even more determined that you were my only one. For a long time, I had no regrets about you, and I found that I was injured, whether it was already too late. Thus, I was alone in the square, letting my heart heal, regardless of whether there were still cracks or not. I remain unrepentant, just feeling less intense, unsure if I could return to the past. Looking at the sky still overcast, it remains in the rain, just like me, not stepping out of the shadow we should have already walked out of. I no longer care, used to this loneliness, a cup of tea, a cigarette, then slowly fall silent in this solitary world.
The rain continues to fall, flicking my fingers sent half a cigarette flying, fire touched the water and was ultimately subdued!
Is there anyone who can tell me, for whom did I pick up my pen and recount this rainy day?
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