Sensible people don’t dance in the rain

I like that my life doesn’t make sense. I’ve tried being a sensible person, it’s not for me. (Because it’s boring.) Just watch me. I’ll step out of my shoes and dance in the rain. Make-up running down my face, pretty dress all ruined.

I’m not talking about being a child and living without consequences because someone else will take care off things. A child can be wild and stupid because there’s a sensible person there to watch out for them. I’m not a child. Being an adult is the best thing that ever happened to me. Nobody tells me what to do.
It’s about knowing that I’m going to be all wet and cold later, that I’m going to look like a sad ghost because my eye-liner is running down my pale cheeks. Knowing that I’ll probably get something sharp and dirty in my bare feet, and that someone might steal my shoes. I know all this, and yet I step out of my shoes and go dancing in the rain anyway. I know the consequences, and I make the choice to accept them. Because there is so much joy in letting loose, in dancing like nobody is watching. In allowing myself to get wet and be a part of a concert of rain. I’m choosing not to be sensible.

One day, when I’m really really old, I’ll have all these stories to tell my grandchildren. (Or my brother’s grandchildren, or the orphans I read to, or the volunteer who reads to me, or the random person on the street I’ve suddenly started talking to, or my dog, or a lamppost.)


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