impulsive picnic in dublin's rain

oh god, the sky that day was pure dread. sitting under that grim cloud, i felt like dissolving. even my shoes felt heavy, gritty. it’s not sunshine, not calm, just raw, heavy air pressing in everywhere. i tried to eat the leftover bread, but something salty and sharp hit me, like saltwater on skin. this place, it’s a physical ache. i wondered if people even bother showing up here unless it’s raining hurricane level down, maybe something like that. my internal clock screamed 'run', but my legs refused, stuck in this cold, stagnant spot. it hums with a quiet, stubborn resistance, like trying to move a brick wall inside. the noise outside is muffled, swallowed by damp leaves, and my thoughts just sputtered like broken sparks. it feels ancient, heavy, utterly uncomprehending. i crave light, a bright spot suddenly forgotten, and the sheer absurdity of it all crashing over me. just breathe in that cold dampness, remember? it stings.

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