"Some days, the sky cries with me — not for me."
Dear Diary,
I didn't speak much today.
Not because I had nothing to say.
But because I didn't know how to say it in a way the world would understand.
So I walked outside.
Shoeless.
Breath tight in my chest.
Thoughts heavy, loud, storming.
And the moment my feet touched the earth —
It started to rain.
Not the angry kind.
Not the kind that punishes the ground.
But the soft kind. The kind that sounds like forgiveness.
The kind that whispers, "I know. I know."
The drops kissed my skin like they remembered me.
Each one a lullaby I didn't know I needed.
I tilted my face up to the sky and let it all fall.
Tears and rain.
Pain and release.
Questions I couldn't put into words.
Answers I didn't know I was allowed to want.
People say rain ruins days.
But to me, rain is the one thing that never asks me to explain myself.
It just comes — uninvited, unashamed — and stays with me in my quiet.
I think the rain understands what no one else sees:
That sometimes, I carry too much.
That sometimes, I need to dissolve.
That sometimes, the bravest thing I do is feel.
I remember once, someone told me I was "too emotional."
As if feeling deeply was a flaw.
As if softness was weakness.
As if tears made me less than strong.
But the rain doesn't think that.
The rain never mocks me for crying.
It joins me.
Cleanses me.
Reminds me that even the sky breaks sometimes —
and still, the world doesn't end.
So I stayed outside, arms outstretched, until the clouds finished what they came to do.
And when it stopped, I felt a little more real.
Like the rain had rinsed the ache I didn't know how to name.
I came back in soaked, silent, and whole.
So if I ever go missing, Diary —
Don't look for me in crowds or noise.
Look outside.
If the clouds are grey and the world smells like new earth,
I'm probably out there somewhere…
Crying with the rain.
Healing without words.
And remembering that even broken things can bloom.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌧️🩵