The Storm
As she sat there, watching the thunderstorm show its rage as if it has been bottling it all up for ages... she knew there is nowhere else she would rather be, no place else that would make her feel as alive as seeing the lighting close the distance between the sky and the ground does. At that moment, she was typing on her laptop, furiously... Someone might say she was trying to match the fury of thunder... the way she was looking at it, the night never roared so loud. She hasn't witnessed anything as chaotically beautiful as tonight ever before. Perhaps she felt so belonged to this menacing weather because it felt familiar. That's how she's been feeling lately. Like a mess, a storm that doesn't know its purpose. Surely, creating destruction as it goes cannot be the only thing she's been put on earth for. There has to be more. There always is. and I think she's been questioning that, a lot. What is her purpose, to be here? Alive and well but lost in her own mind.