wow, look, it's a new entry!

You know they always say that the calm precedes the storm, right? well, I beg to

differ. The calm is what follows that storm, the overbearing silence at the end

of a relationship, the frigidity of the expressions. Think of the storm as a

supernova, eternally ablaze. The

explosion occurs unexpectedly, a burst of neurosis spreading and becoming a

raging inferno you could no longer control. waterworks won't extinguish those

words.
what's left is the cold loneliness, the haunting regrets that keep you awake at

night. the gestures you never made, the words that stuck to the back of your throat, the dreams that were never realised.

the calm is like a glass shield, you can see the life beyond it but

something stops you from reaching out. It isn't palpable. You exhale and people see your breath

fogging up the panes but are never able to share your isolation. the past eats

away your present until there's nothing except a hardened shell remaining. You

start to wear your shell like a plastic raincoat, bright colours running through each seam. no rain seeps through its pores, no heat escapes past the

lacquered surface. people begin to admire your unusual taste in clothes and one

day some nice person asks you politely, mind you, if they could borrow your

marvellous coat. you think about it for a moment and decides there's no harm in

being generous. you say, why not, go for it. the person talks about their

mundane life and the little habits other people have that irk them, and you

start to think maybe you could be friends, seeing as you both have compatiable

starsigns. one thing leads to another and soon you're sharing coffee, dinner,

sunny-side up eggs and toast with them. You savour the delicious taste of love

and bumble around your delirium. You don't realise you've gone too far again

until winter hits the city and the windblown leaves flies into your eyes, but by

then your raincoat's been lost, and storm season stalks around the corner. Your

eyes have turned glassy again, because what you thought was yours forever has become shredded like the

piles of autumnal leaves on the pavement.