The world is constantly spinning, turning night into day and day into night. But lately it’s been shaking too, growing steadily, gradually voilent from a low rumble until I can’t stand and I crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head and count to ten.
It’s only in those times that it seems to still, yet it continues to turn. I look out my window and the birds are still flying, the sun is still shining, the wind is still blowing.
Everything continues as it should except me.
Kassy_Lu