Some people will often list the smell of rain among their favorite smells,
but to me it is an awful stench; a reminder of that hellish night.

Some people are made giddy as they watch the dark clouds gather and anticipate the droplets,
but the air of excitement is something I dread; it suffocates me.

Some people watch the cars zoom by and admire that sound of the wet pavement hissing in response, but this noise is associated with a memory that holds me captive; it is a prison to me.

Some people find the smells and sounds of rainfall to be soothing, but I feel as if the world is mourning with me when it rains; a storm played in the background the night my life was shattered.

Some people marvel at the beauty of lights reflected in water, but I cannot admire these things for fear that I might get stuck in my head; my mind might think we're back living that night again.

Some people used to include myself; no longer, but there is not a day that goes by without a prayer that I might one day return to the world's collection of some people.