When the sky is covered in a thick layer of smokey clouds and a light breeze invites goosebumps onto my skin, that is when I know it’s going to rain. 

When the butterflies crash against the walls of my stomach and tears start to well up in my eyes, that is when I know I’m going to cry.

While the world is beautiful and flourishing in the foggy shades of grey, I feel myself sinking into the comfort of my own thoughts. 

Some days, every small, negative detail builds up in the back of my mind, and I need to let it all go—I need to cry to let it go. I lose a grip on my emotions, and the world begins to spin even faster than normal. I get dizzy in my thoughts, and the tears keep racing down my cheeks. I’ve lost my composition, and there are few things that can help me to get back my balance, and one of them is the people that hold me still.

I found comfort in those who, if they could, would take the world and make her halt where she spins. These are the only people who I would ever let see me on my rainy days. 

I don’t like to feel dizzy or feel the wet traces of tears on my skin because it makes me feel weak and more lost in my own mind. But even more so, I don’t like to let others see me cry because I don’t want everyone else to see me spinning, trying to catch up with the time I seem to be losing. The last thing I want to be is weak.

Whenever I look outside and see Mother Nature crying, I don’t think about how ugly she is—I’m completely enthralled in her beauty. Like Nature herself, I’ve been told that when I cry, I still am beautiful; I’ve been told by a few people that have seen me on my rainy days that I’m a beautiful crier.

In most things in life, to appear perfect you must have what feels like an unlimited amount of practice; I’ve had an unlimited amount of practice with crying. I’ve become so perfect at it that I’ve been able to capture the essence of our ethereal earth in just a single tear. While my mental health has improved vastly in the last couple of months, little jabs to my heart make the tears well up in my eyes once again. 

I hate being sad.

I hate crying.

But I can’t seem to hate the rain.

The rain reminds me of a flat overlooking London, flowers in their vibrant hues, a life well spent, and you. Whenever it rains, I can hear you laughing, and I can see you smiling—that’s my entire reason for being; it is you.

The tears of Mother Nature are what make up my happiest days because they bring me a sense of serenity. I’ve been chasing peace for so long, and I think I’ve finally found it. Now, my tears are only compared to hers.

While I once hated being good at crying, now, I realize that Mother Nature makes our Earth so much more beautiful when she cries. Rain isn’t such a bad thing; crying isn’t such a bad thing. Thanks to you, I’ve learned to accept my rainy days.