Utopia

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 re...