I stood in the storm, not the storm in my head, but the storm weather systems created for us. The wind blew my hair in every direction and whipped the rain into my face. It was cold and dark and loud; a little bit scary too. I raised my arms and looked up into the skin. Something happened in this storm. Not the storm raging outside, but the one inside. It felt cleansing. And despite the headache raging on, I smiled. I couldn’t stop. I am the storm.
reflections of an unquiet mind 