Will We Sink Or Will We Swim?

The rain was pouring off the roof of the apartment building in sheets, like one foggy pane of liquid glass. The smoke from my cigarette didn't even penetrate it it was so thick, so impassable. I stood there, slowly killing myself, and all I could think was that I wanted so bad to step out into the downpour and drench myself, wash myself in the rain, if only I could get past the gate that the was in front of me. As a test I took my hand and slowly pushed it past the wall of water, soaking my sleeve as I did so. My hand dripped as I pulled it back in, and it turned out the wall wasn't so impassible after all. So why couldn't I force myself through it?