history shouldn't repeat itself in just a month, or if it does, its recurrence, as the idea of eternal return suggests should not ensue after only 30 days. Or does it not apply to typhoons? Climate Change perhaps suggests otherwise, and the rain slowly gathers itself yet again, tumult and unrest also slowly becomes lucid in my mind, with intent of submerging the whole Philippines under the raging waters and perhaps under our own mistakes,( and farcical disaster movies with superfluous CGI effects as an excuse for a lame storyline does not even count )
It's just isn't fair anymore, granted natural disasters are never really fair, even when it also submerges in mud and water luxurious homes and fancy cars, because I could never see parity even when both our feet are covered in thick piles of dried brown filth, which may or may not be shit,. or perhaps it is really fair, greenhouse gas emissions and chlorofluorocarbon do have their consequent effects, and we suffer the brunt of it in expense of the whole world, which is really unfair, all things considered.
The raindrops are slowly fizzling, and the mass paranoia educed by the earlier debacles, led us to believe that this is a false sense of hope, and even if your dubious weather forecasters are always erratic (which also is a source of false hope) it could still not dampen the prevalent fears that now torment us (and the rain started to gather itself yet again, proving that the mass paranoia is legit, and fizzles yet again). And I still can't sleep, this is how it began during the last Saturday of September, and the rain lashes out strongly atop our house, and this time with ferocity, worrying my clouded mind, and putting my hopes of awakening in a peaceful sunny morning dangling outside the confinements of our house, in the eye of the typhoon, scrambling for its sorry life.
This is how real life wax poetic upon us, this is how every metaphors we conjured up are used this time upon us. The tempest and the storm of our lonely existence are now their moment of solitude and sadness. Their grief now an inconsolable flood that washed us away, and left us waist-deep in filth and knee deep in our fear. This is how they spend their lonely nights listening to lonely tunes, trying to keep moving in life, trying to wash away the painful memories and the feelings that stupidly lingers when it shouldn't. this is their emotional breakdown, their sincerest pleas and dearest hopes, their metaphorical storms seeking the metaphorical daylight upon us, hoping to give a metaphorical rainbow in our fucked-up life of ironies and sarcasms.
(and the rain outside slightly weakens...and please let me sleep...)