When chaos, confusion and uncertainty have prowled over your life - and treated you as a rag doll - to no end, even fraction and inches of silence begin to gnaw your existence. The placidity regurgitated from the passing storm, agitating at first, becomes all the more unbearable. An odd ringing in your ears ensues as if the silence around you is shrieking, pleading to be let out. It is not dark. It is not gloomy. Au contraire it is pleasant. Sickeningly pleasant. Such that your gut begins to squirm and churn. Horribly. And those pointing fingers. That critique. That noise. You wanted to get away from, beckons as if a craving. Proving yourself. Again. Again. And again. Does not feel so bad anymore. You realise. The turbulence suddenly is your monotony. This peace your change. You want it to return. To clash. Again. To triumph. Again. To smell victory. Again. Not lust. Not desire. This is your self-worth. Your reason of being. Your purpose.