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.

Eviction leaves me sifting through collateral damage of a broken life
Mass. principal cancels honors night so losers won’t have hurt feelings
What did you want in childhood? Did you abandon those dreams?
Why do we ‘need’ the newest thing? Is that where people get their joy?
Intolerance isn’t just an American thing; it’s common to all humans
The more I understand humans, the less I believe we’ll ever all get along
Social creatures: We heal each other, but start dying when alone
Healthy romance features mutual growth, not just ‘take me as I am’