Tributes and Memories

It’s always the days that it was raining. You hated the rain. So much. And I could never figure out why. It was only water, albeit water from the sky. It’s a natural phenomenon. It was good for the Planet. It made everything skewed, but no matter how the perception was changed, I always liked it. Because it was different. And it made me see so much more.

But you still always hated the rain. If only to walk in. I don’t know why, it was never that bad. Even if it was pouring. Or storming. The rain brought out a beauty in you that was so rare to be seen otherwise, if at all. And did it ever make you beautiful. It enhanced your eyes. The way that the droplets of falling water would reflect in your eyes. The way the water would make them shine with unparalleled emotion. You were always so hidden.

Even from me you would hide. Sometimes especially me. Was it that you were afraid? Was I too close? Or was it that you didn’t want to care? Because you cared so much already. And not just for me. Was it that you didn’t want to care so much that it could have been something more, something different yet the same?

You knew. You had known for so long. But why did it stop you? It never had before. Was it the fear of finally admitting it to yourself? The realization of everything finally crashing down? Because you always knew. And you always encouraged more. Pulling me along, pushing me along – even if by force sometimes, and even dragging me along behind you. Making sure I was still there with you every step of the way. Together.

Why did it matter only when the fall of the water made tiny rivulets down your cheeks and past your lips. All over your body, soaking your clothes. What changed in the rain that made you so cautious? So far away.

What was it about the rain that caused a spark of lost to well up inside you, causing you to push me away. I know you never hated me, but you didn’t like me in those moments either. It was almost as if you were afraid. Not that people shouldn’t be afraid of what I can do, but it’s different when it’s with you. You were never like the rest. You were better. Because you accepted me without judgment. And you never feared.

But the look in your eyes when it would rain, it was so changed from the man I knew. You were cold. Almost spiteful. Sometimes angry. So distant and partially fearful. Because I was there with you. And you knew. In your heart. In your mind. In your soul. You knew you wanted, but you refused to care. In those moments, I lost a little more of myself. Because you were gone.

And in your place, wrath. The ways you would hurt me I cannot even begin to say. But it isn’t as if it mattered. Somewhere inside I enjoyed it. If only because it was attention. From you. And somewhere, deep down, you took pleasure from it all. The control you had over me. The pain you would inflict. Because it was me, and you were the only one who ever could. And you always knew it. Even now.

I craved your touch, even if I didn’t know. I needed your attention more than anything else on the Planet. I wanted your care and devotion. Not because you were all I had, but because you made me feel like it was okay. That I was good enough. That I wasn’t some monster, even if I was. You made me feel. And you reveled in it. And I wanted it back.

Because it was never about the rain. It wasn’t even about you. You hated the rain because it brought out a side of you that you were never allowed to show. A part of you that was always suppressed. A part of you that was raw with need and hungry for attention. To be able to become a part of you that existed. It was never about the rain, even though it would release you. It was the only thing that could.

It was all because of me. And when we were in the rain, you could never contain it any longer. And you pushed me away while pulling yourself as far away from the situation and time at hand as you could, so that I could never reach you. Even if that was all you had ever wanted. And all I would ever desire.