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.

Bachmann’s attack on Obama’s TelePrompTer was cynical hypocrisy
Still relevant six years later: ‘We’re the Government — and You’re Not’
U.S. debt per capita worse than basket cases such as Greece
How miserable does someone have to be to ‘troll’ a cute dog picture?
Creators must be wary of making propaganda or work for own ego
Trendy ‘anti-racists’ don’t realize they’ve been conned by Marxists
Healthy partner will always ask, ‘Who do you really want to be?’