i also stood in the rain that was trying to fall

The rain that didnt fall, it just drifted somewhere from the sky and landed somewhere near me. maybe on me but indefinitely so. i got home damp, in any case. and Family Mart didnt like my credit card. i scolded myself for spending my last note in the world on...on...on something useless, perhaps a bus ticket or a sandwich full of soggy noodles. rain doesnt fall on me. it fell around me. it fell inside me, but it never fell on me. my feet felt wet on the top from the steady moisture freeing itself slowly from the clouds. my feet felt wet on the bottom from the mucousy vomit i'd only five minutes ago stood in. The culprits, shouting at each other across the road, didnt know that the contents of one of their stomachs was all over the sole of my foot. later still, i would nearly fall on more vomit, smile broadly at more songs being sung, plan my secret escape once again. secret escapes are the best way of exiting any situation. when one becomes sick of themselves; of their responses, of their lack of ability to provide help. they can escape. also, when one becomes sick of the influence they have on a person, on a group, on a decision, they can choose to opt out by slipping slowly into the background and making like the rain and reversing themselves back somewhere secret where nobody knows they exist