Outside My Window

It's raining. I press my fingers to the cold glass, and my breath swirls white. The moisture clings to the window, obstructing my view for a moment. Trees and houses are blurry before the condensation alights. It's depression-ing. I try to look outside. The world has so much to offer, if you can only see the opportunities. But. That's the problem. This sadness clutches onto my sight, making it impossible to see for a moment. Sometimes a moment feels a lot longer, though.