I hate the rain.

The rain hates me.

It's a mutual relationship.

The rain hates me.

It was raining when we had our recognition day.

I was second in class.

And miserable.

But my mother promised me she would come.

For the first time in a really long time

I was happy.

Even though it was raining.

The rain hates me.

But at least my mother doesn't.

She will come and I know it.

And I'll be happy even though I'm only second

Even if it was raining.

But the rain hates me so.

The rain never wanted me to be happy.

The rain had Mom stuck in traffic.

So I waited and waited until the end

Even after everyone has left.

But Mom never came

Because of the rain.

Though how many times I wish it to go away, it never did.

That's why I hate the rain.

"I hate the rain,"

I whisper to myself.

Someone sits beside me and asks "Why?"

It's him.

That boy I hate so much because of his name among other things, the gleaming gold medal I so much wanted dangling from around his neck.

"Just... because."

"Ah... if you hate the rain so much, why's it raining from your eyes too?"

"Can't you see I'm crying?"

"Are you?" he smiles, leaning in for a closer look. "Then the clouds are crying with you. They're the sympathetic bunch, aren't they?" He looks up at the sky and squints his eyes. "See? You're never alone."

"I don't get it."

Instead of an answer, he offers me a handkerchief and walks away without another word.

I watch him go, murmuring, "I hate you," tears streaming down my eyes.

I hate Rain.

I hate Rain.

I keep telling myself those words until the "periods" become "question marks."

I hate Rain?

Do I really?

Do I really hate Rain?

Do I really hate the rain?

I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore.

The rain hates me.

Rain must hate me.

I hate me too.