Authenticity. Being my true self. It is not how one dresses, nor a certain manner in which you put on make-up.Even not a way to talk. For me, it is simply a weather.
Not a day of blazing sunshine or an hour of pouring rain. It is a simple light drizzling falling from grey clouds.
People don’t like that kind of weather. No one goes back to get an umbrella, but everyone wishes they had one. It isn’t real rain giving everyone hearing it, a homely feel and granting everyone in it a fulfilling cleanse. It isn’t good weather either.
Yes, it is not a good weather. It ruins the hairstyle that took and makeup, wets the clothing so one has to change. Without seeming powerful, it really is.
It is not the pouring rain washing away a bad day, it is not the shining sun warming the skin gently.
But it is some form of authenticity to me. As it slowly undoes what I tried to hide all day.
It undoes the effect my straighteners had on my hair, unleashes my curls. Shows the world my curly hair which I tried to hide because it is messy. As messy as my bag, my room, my head.
As creative as the books in my bag, the writings in my room, the thoughts in my head.
The drizzle washes away the make-up covering up all these wonderful imperfections, which I was too scared to show. Although honestly, I love every single one of them.
The water, slowly making my clothes unwearable, makes me change into something more comfortable, something that does not hurt my body to make it look like what people consider pretty.
The rain undoes the wrong decisions to cover up my true self. The decisions I never made consciously. The decisions I never really thought about until the rain forces me to change them.
And it does not force me harshly, but it slowly undoes my efforts. Gently, but there is no way to stop it.
Therefore, I smile, raise my face into the rain and feel the freeing power of authenticity.