I’m in the eye of my own storm. The currents were perfect to let me build. You all caused this to take form.
It’s calm. Still. The air is prickling and I’m trying to calm my will. I know the eye always passes and you should prepare to run or fight.
Be careful, darling, we both know your choices are never right.
A storm like this can ruin you. Or make you. I know the fear you tend to.
I hope you know whether to run, hide, or fight. Because, darling, you won’t make it out this time. You won’t get out of the dark or ever see light.