A Bizarre connection with Rain.

There was a time whenever the rain happens, it used to bring some pain for me.

Running from it going inside and drawing my curtains, but even indoors there was no escape from petrichor (the earthly scent after rain). It filled everything from the ground up. But the only thing the smell of rain brought to mind for me that time was a decaying stink.

Shut in behind my curtains, I used to feel a violent loathing for rain.

I hate it what the rain had in store for me; I hated the dull, throbbing ache it aroused inside me. I had never hated anything in my life with such intensity.

Walking beneath The rain, I could hardly hear what people said to me and they had just as much trouble catching anything I had to say.

My whole body felt enveloped in some kind of membrane, cutting off any direct contact between me and the outside world.

I couldn't touch “them”, and “they” couldn't touch me. 

I was utterly helpless and as long as I remained in that state, “they” were unable to reach out to me.

 I sat leaning against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. When I felt hungry I would nibble anything within reach, drink some water, and when the sadness of it got to me, I would knock myself out with whiskey. I didn't bathe, I didn't shave this is how those rainy days used to went.

Believing our lives we nurture death. 

True as this might be it was only one of the truths we had to learn. What I learnt from my little experience was this; 

no truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through  to the end and learn something from it,but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.

“DEATH EXISTS, Not as the Opposite but as a part of LIFE”.