Raindrops.

I am sitting in my darkened room, the only light coming from the glow of my monitor. There is a lovely storm developing outside. Normally I would be enjoying the weather very much, but today is different somehow. I am listening to the sound of the raindrops as they pitter-patter against the frozen ground. Normally, this sound would be soothing, possibly even enough to send me into slumber, but not tonight. Instead, the rain sounds like a frantic clock, ticking away endlessly in its countdown. It's almost eerie actually. What is the clock counting down to you might ask? I have no idea. I would like to think that it is counting down to my demise. But I am pretty sure that it is something more mundane, for example counting down to the point that it stops raining. But maybe that isn't so mundane afterall. Maybe it isn't even a clock at all, but a series of cries from the rain. Maybe each raindrop smashing against the window pane is aware of itself, and it wants to make itself known to the world, even if it is only for a second. The only reason you even know it ever existed was because of its last desperate cry as its life is smashed into pieces, and it slides down the glass to die. Given that perspective, humans aren't that different from raindrops. All six billion of us, just going about the not so interesting routine we refer to as lives (although whether or not any of us are actually living is debatable), barely distinguishable from each other, except upon close inspection. And all every person really wants deep down, is for someone, anyone to acknowledge them, and show at least a sliver of interest in them. And is that too much to ask? Is it really so much of an inconvenience to show interest in someone, ask them how their day was, tell them that you care about them? What if someone showed as much interest in you as you show in some of your peers? Think about that the next time you hear the sound of the rain.