Unceasing rain

It’s been raining cats and dogs for days now. The weather has a peculiar effect on me—I couldn’t describe it fully, and I shan’t even attempt to. That would be futile.

I get restless for a moment, and then, when the adrenaline rush subsides, I find myself exchanging glances with the painting in my shelf, my brain in the fence between the conscious and the unconscious. That’s why I’m here in a nearby room not far from mine, typing this, because if I confine myself in my room for the rest of the day, I would rot in insanity.

But then again, in moments like these, I would realize that time is gold, as another friend would always put it. Time is irrerversible. What has been done can no longer be erased. True, the wrongs or offenses committed can always be repaired—that’s the purpose of forgiveness—but they can never be undone. It never works that way.

Maybe I should doze off now, or eat an early dinner, or study for tomorrow’s classes. Or maybe, just maybe, the wretched sinner that I am should fall on my knees in earnest prayer. I know His mercies will come to me like unceasing rain.