I’m tasting gray in my mouth again. The scariest part is that my hands are shaking again and I haven’t been able to sleep so well and it’s all so scary because it’s all so familiar.

You can spend months twirling around a sun in your head and the rain can still come. But the rain only ever comes if it pours, and God, I see gray again. It’s all over and it’s in my head again.

It is a tragedy and a thunderstorm and a hurricane all in one body and it is within me while I’m trying to claw my way out.

I drift, drenched. I drift, and it’s as if I am in the midst of pouring too.