Left in the rain

I felt the raindrops pelt my face, letting them shower me, my silent ritual to appease my disappointment.
It was shameful to think that at this age I would still be concerned over something so trivial.  My need to validate myself in comparison to everyone else was pathetic...yet here I stood again, wet in the rain, allowing the clouds to weep for me.
I began my walk back home after feeling that I had spent a resonable amount of time in the cold, my own form of self punishment; if I were to get sick it would be my interpretation that universe was also reprimanding me.
I dragged my feet through the wet, allowing the icy water to attack my toes. The wind slashed at my exposed skin,as the piece of paper I clung at my sides danced to the gale, whipping me as it swayed. It was nudging me, reminding me that I was not as good as I thought I was. It was a token of my broken pride.
The winds howled, lightning tore the heavens asunder like brilliantly white lions roaring as they streaked across the sky. As depressed as I was, I had to admit to my fear of thunderstorms. I quickened my pace and took refuge at the nearest bus stop, allowing the shade to shelter me from the rain.
I was escaping my punishment, I thought miserably.
Lost in my own anxiety, I failed to notice that I was sharing the refuge with another person.
She stared quite intently for a moment, her eyes from the paper I clutched in my hand to the look on my face.
She was silent, as though pondering, and then without notice, she burst out laughing.
Her laughter echoed with the storm, as though the weather was sharing her mirth. I was feeling rather offended, my sorrow gone, replaced with annoyance and embarrassment.
"Don't tell me you're depressed because you didn't get first place?" she hiccuped, unable to completely suppress her laughter. 
I didn't know how to answer. My mind was stuck between how she knew what was bothering me and the hot feeling I was getting under the collar.
She read my silence accordingly; her look changed from joy to sympathy.
"Don't you think you being just a little bit...dramatic?" her voice was soft yet not condescending.
"If you keep looking at yourself through everyone else eyes but your own, you're going to lead a very disappointing life...so instead of comparing yourself to them, why not learn from them to better yourself...and compete only with yourself"
The logic of it all sounded so simple, so sane, yet how it eluded me for so long was baffling...I should've realized this a long time ago, yet I've always felt that I would only feel proud of my accomplishments if it were labeled that way by everyone else. 
I stared at the piece of paper I held in my hand, thinking back at the amount of time I used to research, the number of drafts I made and that feeling of self achievement I had when I finally handed it in. Staring at the grade I got, I realized it reflected my effort, it was a signal showing me how hard I tried; and to hell with it if I wasn't ranked first, I did what I could, and that's all that mattered.
I turned to thank my stranger, but she was gone. The sky no longer a depressing grey but golden, as the sun peaked from the clouds. A rainbow dazzled the scenery as everything sparkled in the light that bounced of the wet.
I got up, carefully pocketed my paper, and walked back home, feeling like I've left a part of me in the storm.