shitstorms Soma Do your bones ache as if a rainstorm? There's no sandbags to keep the rising tide out. No shutters to close my windows tight against what I want to unsee, to unhear, to unknow. I cannot prepare or insure myself against them. I can only endure, and watch my little home of a self stain darker. Maybe the ache is sensed in the soul. I'm so tired. Crisis_fatigue pools in the hearth where once hope warmed me. I feel my heart fluttering, trapped in the darkness. Poor thing. 201102 ... unhinged let me plagiarize for you: life is suffering the silly expectation we carry that life should be something, anything else but suffering makes us resentful, hateful youngstown helped me realize at a pretty young age that no matter where i ran to, poof. there i was. no amount of running changed the insides, although the outside shape may have been altered to magnetize different suffering no matter where i run to there i am 201104 what's it to you? who go blather from