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.

News used to be important; now it’s well-dressed entertainment
My programming from childhood still equates blame with shame
‘Breaking Cat News’ is amazing art and evidence of dreams come true
When doubt wakes me at dawn, my world seems a lonely place
When you’re finally facing death, how many people will love you?
Why did I really feel annoyed? They were happy; I was jealous
Sharing mundane details of life is underrated joy of loving someone
Best way to fight terror? Turn off your TV and get back to real life