chrysalism. n. the amniotic
tranquility of being indoors during a
thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you
understand perfectly.
'as the car drove on crackling over the dirt roads the heavily tense silence that always seemed present between the two of us nowadays,-like an unbreakable yet painfully
transparent glass wall, even when we were speaking- was now broken only by the waves of rain sliding down the chilled window panes in front of my nose and the ceaseless lashing taps pattering the roof.
i love driving in the rain, i always have ever since i was a kid, it makes me feel like i'm in a bubble of calm, like i'm in hidden inside a magic shield while wars and drama and
everything else beats down around me but none of it can get at me, nothing can hurt me. it makes me feel this safe and sad and warm sense of chrysalism. it's cathartic. it makes all the sadness inside me sweeter and all the anger and bitterness calmer.
It's
the only thing about this messed up situation, this moment of awful that's making me feel ok.'
