At age six, my mother told me that dancing is not really for me. The ballerina in me died that day.

Age eight, I was told by my uncle that I shouldn't sing for other people. I never hummed eversince.

I held a guitar at age twelve, my brother told me "have you forgotten you can't sing?"

I  look like eight-shattered-dreams.

I trust that we know better now.
Break the cycle.

I'm a Libra, and I like rain.

Most times when I am asked why, I snap and say why not.

But really, it was raining the first time my mom trusted me to go to the grocery store alone. I got a banana and I was proud.

There was a storm when my mom decided to let us sleep in, miss school and cook us breakfast for the first time.

A thunderstorm echoed our neighborhood as my mom and I danced through radio and static. The outside was gloomy but we were happy.

So, when you ask me one more time why I like rain so much, I'd say just cause.