The Big City

I was feeling pretty low yesterday. Stuck in the newsroom on my own on a Saturday night, thinking about things. When I finally got out of there I couldn’t decide whether to throw myself down the stairwell or jump into the river. But when I stepped out into the car-park to get my bike everything changed. It was absolutely pouring with rain. Really tipping it down and I didn’t even have a coat. Usually I would have hummed and hawed, trying to decide whether to leave my bike at work and get the train home. But last night I was very happy to embrace the void, I leapt into it.

The rain was hard and it hurt my face. I couldn’t see much because my glasses were immediately covered in water. The roads were running like rivers, the cars couldn’t see me and my brakes didn’t work. As I cycled onto Waterloo bridge the rain got harder and someone pulled over right in front of me, I was inches away from hitting her. The view from the bridge was indistinct and fantastic. Immediately my depression disappeared and I felt exhilarated and full of manic energy.

All the way home I was riding as fast as I could, swerving and swearing to avoid the nearly blind drivers and the deepest puddles. The music was loud and good and I felt like I couldn’t possibly survive.

I started thinking about how there’s no point worrying about the past or about what might have been. Now is where I have to live and there’s no choice in that. The rain can only make you unhappy if you don’t embrace it. I was already so wet I couldn’t get any wetter. I didn’t feel cold or tired, I felt wonderful and alive. By the time I got home the depressing day at work seemed like it belonged to somebody else’s life. If only it would rain every day.