little raindrops on your glasses

Watching the rain fall calms it. Or gets me in more of a thinking mood anyway. Ever wonder if every single raindrop somehow carries a different set of genes with it, like how there are never two identical snowflakes, no two human beings exactly the same?

Just watch how the rain falls on the windows of a car while its moving. No two drops are exactly the same size, none fall in exactly the same spot, and definitely do not stay there for the rest of eternity. They race across the window panes, buffeted by the wind of the moving vehicle, leaving a wake of clear window behind them, before the rain washes that away mere seconds later.

Its impermanence in its very workings. And the fact that everything is unique.

But then again. Not really. If so, what are identical twins? The exact size of gravel you find by chance on the road? Your soul mate who is this close to sharing your thoughts, because you guys tend to speak the same thing all the time anyway? Sometimes, it makes you wonder if life is that easily replaced. If you're that one person who can easily be disposed of once you expire on that individual's need of you.

Remember the days back in high school? The days where essays consisted of "I'm a 2B Pencil, I was born in a factory located in the main city." Back in the days, I wondered just how many pencils can tell their own story. And if they could, what would they say? Would they use the same enthusiastic tone most kids use to write their monotonous essays?

I use to stare at my eraser, or my ruler, and just wonder how it felt like to have 2934187392 clones of you, the idea that you can easily be replaced if you're misplaced. When you look at someone, who do you see? A person akin to the faucet from a cut diamond, unique in every different way like the lights spilling from a precious gem?

Or do you see a normal, wooden 2B pencil?