Notes I Won’t Reread

Rain again. As if the sky wakes up every morning and decides to be a problem. Streets turn slick, shoes get ruined, and the air smells like something that should’ve stayed buried. Convenient.

Thunder always needs to participate. Loud, abrupt, demanding attention. It doesn’t warn you, it just interrupts like it enjoys reminding everyone who’s in control. People flinch, then pretend it’s charming. I don’t agree with them.

Cold weather works the same way. It slows your hands, tightens your body, and turns simple movements into effort. You don’t live through it, you endure it. The day becomes something to survive instead of use.

They say it makes you feel alive. I think people confuse irritation with meaning.

Some of us appreciate warmth, clarity, and silence. The rain offers none of those. And some say it makes them feel alive. I think they confuse discomfort with depth

If I wanted chaos, I’d create it myself.

Sincerely,

With no warmth,

The Sky’s Critic