I don't like rain. Too many bad memories attached.

I know, I know it's a vital part of life. The human body is 70% water for cripes sake. Farmers depend on it for their crops and herds. People need it to survive and I've been caught in more downpours than most. It happens more than it should.

It rained when we tried to revive Mom. So much blood spilled that night I was almost choking on it...the smell was horrific. Can't never forget my limbs gettin' ripped off, Al losing his body...me crawling to the armor in the corner...using my arm as material to attach his spirit...the fear, the terror...I gotta stop thinking about it, wasn't worth the agony and we didn't even TRANSMUTE the right person to begin with-

It rained when I went to dig up the thing we made so I could confirm it wasn't her. I'm glad Pinako was there with me. It was a macabre task. I had the dry heaves so bad it's a miracle I was able to get through it. That was like, the one time I couldn't shovel fast enough.

It poured when Tucker transmuted Nina. God. I don't think my chest will ever stop clenching or me tearing up every time I think of her.

There's a reason Al and I never talk about it.

Anyway, she called me her Little Big Brother. Come ta think of it...I never got angry when she called me that. It'll never happen again though. Too much pain.

It rained when we fought Scar and I almost gave it up. Seriously what the hell was I thinking? On the nights I dare to replay the incident in my head-even though I don't wanna-all I see was how stupid and selfish I was being. My words, my inaction made no sense.

Al was right. I'm no good to anyone dead. There ain't no coming back once you cross the line. No equivalent exchange to fix things. I'd be done.

I dunno if I should be saying this. Al's gonna kick my ass if he finds out but I hafta get it off my chest.

Sometimes...when I lock myself in the bathroom of whatever place we stay in the voices come back. Soft whispers tryin' ta talk me out of living. I block them out as best I can but it's hard. And I'm so tired. 15 going on 50 I mean...this is retarded. I'm not even 20 years old and here I am, standing in front of mirrors bleary-eyed and haggard arguing with myself. Wondering if I could fill out a pink slip and be excused from life when I've destroyed so many others chasing a mythical stone.

Heh, wouldn't Al just love that. Findin' his big brother dead.

Wow. This got...depressing. Fast.

I think...if I did commit suicide he'd be right behind me. I refuse to put him through that hell. I've caused enough damage and besides, it's the coward's way out.

You gotta be in a really dark state of mind to consider it anyway. As horrible as my nightmares can get-and trust me I've had doozies-I can live with it as long as I've got Al and this journal with me. At least I can vent in these pages without hurting anyone or myself.

Besides...I like to hide in here sometimes. Makes me feel like I'm alone.

Meh. All this killing talk's depressing the hell outta me so...I need to find somethin else to write about.

It rained when Winry and Paninya delivered that woman's baby in Rush Valley. I didn't mind the downpour at all that night. The baby was healthy. Alive. And it's been too long since I had something to get excited over. Win said I sounded like a little kid, but I didn't care. Life is precious, which is why a new birth is so amazing.

Mothers are amazing. Human beings in general are amazing!

Sometimes rain doesn't cling to bad memories. It can preside over good things as well.

You know it's a good thing I brought Al's soul back. He keeps me anchored and sane. And besides, I can feel his love for me radiate through that armor. Strong and fierce and protective. He won't never let me go.

It scares me how much I need him around. I don't feel right if he isn't.

That probably sounded REALLY stupid and silly.

I don't care anymore. I just don't.

See ya.