I listen to the pitter-patter of the rain from the safety of my bed. The slow-falling heavy raindrops bring about a sense of peace and isolation as I lay awake with my thoughts. I have bad anxiety and my stomach is almost always in knots. But now I feel calm, a sensation that I have become convinced is not a reality.

The wind starts to pick up and trees outside my window begin scratching my house with their long rough fingernails. The raindrops are falling faster, hitting my roof like a hammer hitting a nail. A flash of white light fills my room and stirs up deep fears of death and the afterlife. I hear a loud "boom" in the distance and the echo engulfs my room.

I climb out of my bed and walk to the window. I know I'm safe, but I am still violently shaking. I nervously lift the curtain. Before I look out, the crack of thunder startles me and I jump back. I stand there in the darkness, and stare at the curtain. I'm terrified to look out, but at the same time I want to witness the tempest.

The trees are fiercely swaying in the wind, bending so far that I'm sure they will come out of the ground before the thunderstorm subsides. The lightning allows me to view my reflection in the window, and I look frightened. The water is running swiftly along the curb, and building up by the storm drain. The wind's indecision takes the limbless grass on a journey without direction.

Although, the storm scares me, I find it beautiful. In a small suburban town, night is usually accompanied by nothingness. The interruption of the typical silence of night inspires me. Three loud claps of thunder roar and the storm has reached its climax. The raindrops are slowing down, the lightning is becoming more intermittent, and the thunder is traveling further and further away. The violent storm is subsiding and the usual peace of the night will eventually continue.