Unhinged

It came from nowhere. The wind was blowing so hard that the tree outside my window, all fifty-plus years of it's five-storey height looked like it may blow away like one little stalk of a dandylion. I'm convinced the Weatherman fucks with me, and changes the weather, according to my head space. That seems a bit presumptious but, perhaps, it's just my little world's weather. I wouldn't want to mess with anybody else's.

In the midst of a swirling, whirling, tweeting bird, sparkling star-filled time with so much promise of fabulous new things and amazing people (person), it appeared, just like that. The skulking shadow came out into the light. I see it and feel like every single piece of me is made of salt water. Like I could easily just turn into a pool of tears, gushing along the gutter, into the rain drain, and down to the sea.

Perhaps, finally, it is time?