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.'
