Rain patters softly but ceaselessly on a window, like a steady drum beating in tandem with the perpetual ticking of seconds, days, years. There is something profound about the rain. Although its drops are small, their power is unparalleled. Each individual droplet, unique and yet uniform, commands more respect than any dictator or king, and contains more pride than the greatest of man or beast. Rain is the champion of the earth. It forces grown men to their knees in desperation at its absence, and leads entire civilizations to rejoice in celebration at its arrival. Rain can be cruel or forgiving. Rain lives by no laws but its own, coming and going at its own choosing.

There is something profound about the rain. It requires no invitation. Rain does not ask permission, or accept rejection. Yet, with all its power, rain is also gentle. Rain brings life. Rain brings passion. Rain brings emotion. Rain is anything, and everything, all wrapped up in one little bundle. We can always recognize rain, but it never falls the same way twice. It is ever changing, and yet it is always the same. Rain is natural, mundane, and yet completely miraculous. Yes, there is something profound about the rain.

I sit amongst the throngs of high school students, ordinary, unexciting, and yet I stand out. To many I am average, just another smart kid, just another theater kid. Yet, what is average? Average is a label, just a label. Average is not normal, because there is no normal. I am not average. I am rain.

I am powerful, though I am small. I affect those around me, no matter how briefly I am there. I command attention, relentless in my quest to be seen, heard, felt. I am unique, yet I blend into the crowd. I am a struggle and I am a triumph. I am the success and the failure. I am meaningful. I have the strength to stand up for what I believe. I have the strength to wrestle with my own imperfections. I have the strength to recognize the battles to fight, and the ones to let pass. I am rain.

I am the same as I have always been, and yet, I am different then I ever was. I hold on to my same values of family. I hold on to my same dreams of leaving my mark on the world. I hold on to my same goals of being remembered long after my death. Yet, despite all these constants, I am never the same person. Each day, I am the manifestation of that day’s energy. I am calm or wild. I am excited or depressed. I am gentle or I am intense. I am rain.

Rain patters softly but ceaselessly on a window, like a steady drum beating in tandem with the perpetual ticking of seconds, days, years. Most people are afraid of this ticking, of this power, but I am not most people. I, like the rain, am my own clock, my own limitation, my own obstacle. I am rain.