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She opens her mouth wide, eyes shut against the bitterness she might taste, throwing her loneliness onto the counter of judgment for the world to pick apart, to dissect, to confuse. Her words are thunderclaps, her rage a tidal wave, crashing into the walls of the void, smashing against her own chest, tearing at her lungs, rattling her teeth. Each scream is lightning, each inhale a hurricane, twisting through her body, shaking her bones, daring the world to endure it. She hurls herself at the emptiness, hoping someone, anyone, can feel it, see it, taste it, fix it, heal it, the way only a man could, the way only pure strength can. Pure boldness. Pure masculinity.

The one man who could understand, who could hold the eye of the storm, who could anchor her fury without fear, didn’t. She screamed hardest at him because the solution was so clear, because she could see the calm power in him, the steady hand, the courage to do what she could not do for herself, but he didn’t move. He remained rigid, statuesque, an immovable pillar in the chaos, and so did she. Two sides of the same storm, mirrored, clashing, unyielding.

He pushed back, twisting her words like wind ripping at the sails of a ship, defending, misinterpreting, harming, never truly hearing the lightning in her voice. Each scream she threw, he deflected; each word she offered, he bent like trees under gale force winds. Yet still, the echo of her rage carried the weight of what he could have been, the man who could have stood in the center of the hurricane, who could have taken the fire, tempered it, commanded it with boldness, with strength, with the quiet authority of masculinity.

Still, she screamed harder. He pushed harder. Thunder rolled in her chest, lightning flickered at the edges of her vision, and yet, somehow, it was still for him. Until one day, she walked away, winds whipping around her, lungs burning, chest a furnace of fury, middle finger pointing backward toward the man she could not change, toward the man she could no longer endure.

She carried the storm with her.

Her energy.

Her breath.

Her own.