Typhoon

made with canva

The wind swept. Swirling everything on its path. 

Fierce. 

Wild. 

In abandon, like it always does. 

Sometimes it moves with a purpose as if it knows exactly where it is going. Sometimes it does. 

But most of the time it doesn't. It could change its mind, just like that. Sometimes sweeping whole towns with it, an after effect of a phenomenon caused simply because it couldn't make up its mind. 

How absurd to compare a woman to this thing. 

Sometimes it will go on howling all day, sometimes all night - which is worse. Sometimes it could make you feel like your world is ending, like everything will be changed the day after. 

And sometimes it will. 

Sometimes it could make you snuggle within thick sheets, and that is only if your house is big enough to withstand its strength. Which is not always the case in small towns where it usually hits.

The worst is when it is somewhat silent, but then it brings with it too much rain and too much water. Then it could sweep with it lives. Lives that are now, but in the blink of an eye —gone. 

Like it didn't matter. 

Perhaps it really didn't matter, because it doesn't know the meaning of life. It only knows how to show its brutal strength. Its mighty power. And anyone who doesn't acknowledge it is a fool.


And when it leaves, it leaves like a callous lover who've made you feel cheap. It slips during the wee hours of the morning when you think you are still dreaming a good dream or a bad dream. And when you wake up, it is to a world much changed but still somehow the same. 

Sometimes you wonder how you'll put it back, or if you'll ever have the strength to put it back, or if it will be worth it to make the effort to put it back. When you know that days from now, weeks from now or months from now it will be back. To show you its strength again as if you have forgotten.

As if you can ever forget.