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.

When people push inner buttons, it’s easy to spiral down into dark
Shingle reminds me what it felt like for someone to believe in me
Bloomberg: Policing what you eat part of ‘government’s highest duty’
Federal ‘help’ makes medical care more expensive and less available
We don’t know how to love until we learn to set our egos aside
Telling others how to escape is easier than setting myself free
‘You cannot love in moderation’; lukewarm love’s worse than none
Goodbye, Anne (2009-2019)
If you’re depressed about losing, libertarians are standing by to help