The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

Why do we stay in prison when there’s no lock holding us there?
Competent, beautiful girl mirrors what I’d love to have in daughter
How could a stranger at sunset possibly know what I had to say?
Changes are destroying culture, but we can build beautiful dream
AUDIO: What if she was right? Maybe I am the real ‘product’
Dear Donald Trump: Want a deal? You can buy my transcripts cheap
Ghost of Richard M. Nixon haunts Obama administration’s IRS fiasco
A culture which defines itself by consumption has lost its values
We’re becoming so selfish that our old ‘social scripts’ are dying