232: Rain in June
I love June. For some reason, June resonates with me more than April even though I am an April baby. So why June?
It’s the first month of winter. It’s the first month that speaks of any kind of melancholia that I can drown in, at least in my private time. It’s the first month every year that I like to wake up and think about my senses, what I’m feeling, why I’m thinking about these things.
When it rains in June, the rain really speaks to me. Rush forward bad junior school memories, woeful encounters with people I’d rather forget, canvas shoes which are now damaged beyond repair. June. Rain in June.
June speaks to me on a level no other month does, because in this month, I have such a great understanding of what it is to be sad, to be loveless, to be forlorn.
I know I said I chose the no-feeling life, and I control my emotions like they are a different person, separate from me, but of course one can’t help being down sometimes. Although I might have chosen to be sad, so does it really matter? Whatever, rambling