She is a storm. Uncontrollable. Unpredictable. She is furious. She is calm. She is passionate and unstoppable. She leaves a trail of chaos in her wake. You can try and prepare for her, but she’ll surprise you in every way. Men fear her. And at first, so did I. But as strong as the winds blow, and as loud as the thunder roars, she strikes with the brilliance of lightning that replaces my fear with an excitement and amazement. Maybe out of courage, or out of stupidity, but I no longer hold any fear. Perhaps it’s because it’s too late. I’ve found myself caught in the middle, and with no way out. There’s no way to escape it. There is no safer place than right in the middle of it, the eye of the storm. There’s no where I’d rather be than right here. In her eyes.