Summer

After many days of continuous rainfall, it is not hard to comprehend the suicidal rate in Cornell. Starting from the day of the graduation (fantastic omen), Taipei has been trampled by playful rain. The drops start falling and crescendos into a majestic thunder. And then it stops. And then the sky starts to drip again as if to say, "Hi guys, I'm back!". If this doesn't do justice to depression, then you must be phenomenal at controlling external forces.
I must admit, I do not have such heroic power to will off the gloominess that permeates the atmosphere. I succumb to this crushing force that unleashes my inner depression. Hidden away under the covers of my bed, the parameters around this patch of territory all seem abyssmal, dark, and hopeless. Every slashing I hear on the window I wince in pain and anguish. I am desperate to get out. And so I do, heading towards the refrigerator. With all this depression going on around me, it's only reasonable that I eat something.
Back in my little patch of territory (under my covers in my very cozy bed), I start to realize that the rain is not only making me sulky, it is ruining my cross-country career. That tummy of mine is growing. I need to get out and run. I need to escape from these bars that bind me so relentlessly. Just kidding. It wasn't like the rain literally locked me in. But just maybe, it did so somewhere in the deeper corners of my dark mind.
After hours of wallowing and dreaming up sun dances, I almost gave up all hope; the sun didn't love us as much as I thought it did. But the other day, as I woke up, there was my beloved friend guiltily peeking from the horizon. Hello there, stranger.
What drama the summer can bring, and a good kickoff at that. The rain was an appetizer only to enrich the joy summer would bring later on. So don't wallow and sulk. Let's just say that we should be glad I've been proven wrong. The sun does love us after all. This world is, ultimately, the best of all possible worlds.