write something with "... so the rain keeps coming through the window, and i never felt more helpless..."

Tina told me it was strange to enjoy spending more time with her animals than her friends, but by then I wasn't paying any attention to her advice. She had told me I was too soft with my wife, and when I stiffened the ensuing separation would ruin what was then my life. I used Tina's advice as the scapegoat for my own emotional issues at the time, but now that I've grown well out of those things (or so I tell myself I have), I understand that she was the one that kept it all afloat... despite myself. When it all flew away on the wings of a broken promise and an Irishman named 'Julio,' my last resort was Tina's house, and thus her candy-red barn.

She told me I could use her spare bedroom but something about her quaint farmhouse never sat well with me. Perhaps it was the fact that at 36 she had never had a spouse and never cared for one, but I always imagined it was something deeper. My longing for companionship far outpaced hers and I felt that while our minds were on different wavelengths, something about her demeanor exuded a sort of personal joy and daily gain that I would never understand. She found meaning the in the mundane, and while I was certainly never of the depressed variety, what did I have to be thankful for? A fulfulled prenup and a bed of straw?

When I saw Tina, I saw everything I wasn't. She was content, I was brooding. She paid homage to those who put her in a position to be happy, I cursed my parents and siblings for my shortcomings and personality-driven misgivings. She understood that it was often the pauper that would offer deliverance instead of the prince, while I lay in wait for life to jump on me, rattle my cage and yell "what the fuck are you waiting for?"

My last night in the barn (a fact I didn't know at the time), was spent during a hellish rainstorm. The cold, piercing droplets innundiated the red shelter and as I lay bearing the brunt of the storm, I could barely see Tina's small frame outlined against the oversized bay doors below... and as she approached me and my mind drifted back even to a time when I thought I had myself figured out, I thought... "... so the rain keeps coming through the window, and i never felt more helpless..."