How wonderful that the weather fits my mood.

Thunder. Lightning. Tornadoes. Each brilliant flash reminds me of my own electric energy. The deep rumblings in the sky reflect my own desire to scream obscenities until I�m hoarse. And the prospect of a tornado echoes my longing for some sort of destruction, even self-destruction. Fierce winds and loud storms help stoke the fire that�s been growing in me, driving me to some kind of rebellion�any kind of rebellion. Frustration. Bitter frustration growing hot in the pit of my stomach until I�m ready to scream. Or sneak out. Find a party. Find a man. Someone. Anyone. Away.

Screw You