It was raining on a Saturday morning. I smiled because I loved the rain. I loved feeling the raindrops hit my fingertips and watch them drop onto the cold, hard cement.
I quickly grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and ran downstairs to get a coat.
As soon as I put on my coat I ran out the door, slamming it behind me.
I stood in front of the door, breathing in the smell of the rain. It was quiet, the rain hitting the cold cement being the only source of sound.
I began walking down the sidewalk, walking to who knows where. I knew that I would get sick, but I didn't care. It was times like these where I enjoyed being alone.
I walked for about 10 minutes when I stumbled upon a playground. No one was there, of course, so I sat down at a nearby bench.
I sighed and pulled my knees up to my chest. I stayed like that for 5 minutes.
And that's when the tears came.
I cried my heart out.
I cried because no one cares. I cried because I'm usless. I cried because my parents didn't give a single damn about me. I cried because I'm not good enough.
But most importantly I cried because I'm misunderstood.