Everything reminds me of him.

It's raining. Heavily. I'd planned to go for a walk at 4am but now it's almost 5am. I could smell the rain before I could hear it or see it. I did feel there was lightning around midnight. 

I used to love the rain. I used to sit and watch it like a show as a kid. When my siblings were born, I used to sit with them near the entrance of our apartment. I'd cover them up so that they don't get wet and hence fall sick. I used to love the rain. I once told the rain the type of husband I'd like. 

It's raining. It reminds me March of 2020. He did it in my parents' room. He did it where my father's head rests on the pillow right now. That evening he escalated things from his previous routine. I hate him. I hate myself. If I go to my brother's room, I can see his apartment from the window. 

I just want the rain to melt my skin so I can be nothing. I want to flow into the gutter and mix with the water there. I hate it but that's what I am. Gutter.

I'm still sitting and watching the rain while listening to "Carrie and Lowell".

I wish things didn't have to turn out this way. I wish things were different. The way they were actually supposed to be.