Rain rain come again

So it rained.

Everyone cheered. I always think Singaporeans are fussy. They complain about floods in December and then they beg for rain after the rainy season. I am a true pluvophile in Singapore, so the first thing I did early this morning was walk in the rain and feel the cool wind on my face. That was extremely nostalgic. I thought Sunday was going to be gloomy because of the short-lived rain but nope, it poured later in the afternoon and evening. I could never explain that peace in me. It was a hectic Sunday, but somehow I never really felt tired. It was good, of course. I came to this realisation today, that some things have changed. I didn't get to the bottom of things, I no longer have that kind of courage and energy. I am happy with the wounds healing and leaving them as they are. I don't deny that I'm still shrouded in that whole accusation thing, but I dare to say I have never tried expressing any feelings of suppression or unhappiness, to anyone, simply because I promised never to bring it up again. I'm learning to love myself, bit by bit, more and more. It is truly a blessing for me to be going gaga over a TVB show again, I cannot be more thankful for an interest as timely as this. I recall how I managed to forget everything else when I was hooked to No Regrets some years ago. I have learnt to go swimming more often whenever time permits. I used to hate swimming alone because I found it boring. And I have begun using facial masks. I am spending more me-time alone. I go to Starbucks more often, to watch people and to write postcards. Of course, me-time also means most of the people around are hardly free. I still listen to Ah-Mei every single day. I only loop her songs. I'm going to do it until I find myself awake from this nightmare. The reason why I am happy now, is because no one tries to stop me from all these healing theories. I don't really know how many people understand how I feel, or whoever thinks I am nuts, perhaps people do think I am nuts but they just don't say it. At least. No one asks me to stop. Because I don't want anyone to say that. I really need this. A few hours ago A whatsapped me. I told her I really loved the 18-year-old me because I felt that I really loved myself while I was in love. A few years later, which is now, I realised I am loving myself again. This time, for no particular reason.