Because sometimes, it is a choice. Bad things happen, people die, hearts are broken, but it's how we walk in the rain of grief that defines us. Do we cower in the downpour and let the frigid chill soak us through? Do we grab an umbrella and fight the storm? Or do we stand tall and let our heads fall back, open our mouths and taste every fucking drop as its coolness sizzles against the heat of our tongue?
