Lined in...

The rain follows me for a lot of reasons. I talk in my sleep which disrupts my roommate and just plain telegraphs it across the world. I make my grandparents angry because on my vacation I didn't spend enough time with them, my friends are disappointed because I didn't spend enough time with them on my vacation, and my fluid in my head has been replaced by tears from my brain which has depressed that I couldn't take a vacation. I'm relegated to my desk, which is the middle of the apartment; not private but exposed to everyone here and the neighbors who can see through the two large windows and one window with patched together diamonds of class with black caulk. To sit here, while someone walks by on the phone, talking joyfully as I attempt to spill. My room is dark with the blinds drawn instead of bright with them open like I need it, to feel like I'm not dead. The light is on in the closet, because my roommate continues to leave it on after he leaves or sits at his desk, in the room, boxing my bed with two walls and the door to make four sides. The person who reminded me, who had faith in me, who would text me with messages like, "You're David Precht, and you're loved," taking away from the three phone calls asking me if I forgot to make other phone calls or take care of other things is no longer visible. Or those others who simply question, like the room is an interrogation and detention center. Track lighting instead of the florescence strobing with energy saving effort. But mainly the rain follows me because while I love who I am, what I have planned for myself, the stupidity and narrow-mindedness of this society, of the culture that I am half part of immediately assumes that I'm not worth anything. That my path isn't going to provide for a family. That I could if only I went out and got my doctorate in something retarded field that I'm not passionate about at all, that I would depressed and hate myself for entering in the first place. That's what I need. What I should do. The path I should have taken. The rain falls on me because I'm ashamed that part of me can't accept the very nature of who I am, and who I have to be. Now, as those doombringing clouds begin to dissipate and the rain slows to a trickle, barely drowning out the thunder miles and miles away I take solace in the fact that I have, a long time ago, begun on the path Baha'u'llah established for me. Happy in the knowledge that my gift is the right one, my life will continue smile-filled, and the family I start will abolish the myths that my predecessors tried to orate from their Mercedes Benz's.