Pluviophile. I am not.
I admire and envy people who love the rain.
The same cannot be said for me. The rain is a cold and unrelenting reminder of how stupid I can be. It laughs at me for my mistakes. It mocks me with every drop that trickles at the back of my neck. Kicks me in the ass when I’m already down and drenched. It has malice written all over the damp snarky pavement. Each splash is an echo of the old me whimpering and sobbing.
I hate how the splashing sound of the rain rattles me. Annoys me like hell. It nags me to no end.
I will never love the rain.