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.

You can’t see inside my heart, but my words invite you to know me
Is Big Brother taking over your refrigerator and other appliances?
If there are exceptions to free speech, it’s not really free speech, is it?
To fall in love is to play with fire, but our deep need justifies risks
Money is a tool, and it’s useless without motivation and vision
Blind faith in our ability to reason led to arrogance, false certainty
How can we be lonely while we’re surrounded by billions of people?
Suppressing speech you don’t like is a lousy way to encourage tolerance
If you’re out of place somewhere, nobody’s going to be very happy