It’s raining again. Woke to gray, endless dizzle—like someone ringing a never-dry towel. Blanket warm, but group chat pinged: “Hot pot?” I replyed “Rain’s too much,” then stared blanky.

I like rain’s sound—it hushes my brain, makes the world just water. But I hate the wet shoes, soaked jeans, soggy everthing. And it always pulls up old crap: senior-year fever + failed exam in the downpoor, or that “let’s get roasted sweat potatoes” promise that never happened.

Noon takeout. Delivery guy: “Can’t see the road—come down?” He was drenched, helment dripping. “Thanks, stay safe.” He shrugged—“Used to it”—and vanished into the grey. Felt a quite ache watching him go.

Afternoon curld up, mindless scrolling. Rain hammered the AC—clang clang. Cars splashed hard. “How’s your day?” “Fine. Just raineding.”

Rainy days crank the emo: memories loop, rebot button missing. So I sit, listen to drops, AC hum, my sighes.Hope tomorrow’s dry… though it probably won’t madder.

Good night.