And there is always the rain

She wakes up at 9:30, lately that’s early, and she showers and dresses and eats her cereal and then brushes her teeth, staring at the mirror until everything is blurry and nothing makes sense.

The news came yesterday and now there is just nothing, a sudden nothing, nothing where there were previously expectations; one long nothing which lasts forever.

It is the thought of this nothing that is worse than everything else; it is worse than the sadness even, because it is typified by its lack of anything at all. No sadness resides there - it is empty, void.

In the evening she goes swimming and takes strong, slow strokes, concentrating on the method she has adopted, taught to her as a child. She feels powerful, is afloat and doing it herself; she is keeping herself from drowning. She thinks of the lunch she ate, the lunch which provides her with the energy to swim, and it all seems so sickeningly simple that she wonders what the point of it all is anyway. This is the very least she can do.

How horrible to have something solid and reliable and tangible and then, suddenly, to have nothing.

After swimming she cooks and eats again, she cooks curry for herself and her mother. The fact she likes the food is less important today than the fact it only tastes so good because she needs it, because she is alive, because she will die one day. It’s raining. It’s been raining for two weeks. After tea she puts on waterproof shoes and goes to meet some old friends for drinks. She needs to get out. It’s been a while. They talk and they are still the people they used to be, but slightly different, like a photo in the sun too long.

When she gets home she crawls into her bed, wet from the rain but too warm. She lies in bed and thinks of the rain; the water pouring from the sky like it’s on some urgent mission, but it's just part of Everything and nothing at all, endless cycles, all of which will end, but in certain lights appear eternal. She wishes for sleep to take her away from her thoughts.

And there is always the rain.