Why would you stay in a situation that wasn’t ideal?

There is something tragically beautiful about a hurricane.

Power. Unpredictability. Clouds like soft blankets draped across

the ceiling creating a wonderland of unknown excitement. Light

peaking in through the creases. Hearing the world around you

just go on – without you. He was screaming about me existing

in my little fort. Too old to hide from the world, but too sad

to face it. I don’t know. I guess temporary is also really beautiful.

Hurricanes end. Blanket forts fall.


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