It was raining. Always raining. A collection of monsunes and tropical storms. But only in my mind. I had been cursed like many others. Some say it is a gift. They are sadly mistaken. If it was a gift, I wouldn't cry myself to sleep every night. I wouldn't be permenantly stuck in this tidal wave of rain that only exsisted inside my mixed up head. In reality I shouldn't even be alive. I should be dead, long dead, with anyone else that was a victim. Instead I was chosen. I was one of the few that survives to tell the tale. One that had a beating heart still remaining.