And then-
It hits you.
Suddenly and overwhelmingly,
like you've opened the door to your house,
but suddenly it's no longer your home, but Pandora's box and there isn't hope left at the bottom this time.

Suddenly-
You're terrified again:
Fear hits you like the monsters under your bed when you were five, but this time it's not the dark you're afraid of, its the light.
You're terrified
Of Loss,
And love,
death-

And life.

You are suddenly a wanderlust with no sense if direction, who has lost his compass;
And you can't tell up from down,
which way is drowning,
And which is surviving with your head above water.

The pluviophile in you can only take so much before it begins to drown too, under the down pour.

Perspective changes when you don't have an umbrella.

Suddenly it all changes with that turn of a doorknob,
And for no apparent reason everything comes spiraling out at you,
pursuing you.

But finally when the last obstacle has hit you and knocked you to your knees,
Begging please
Over
And over
And over
And over:

There is hope,
You just have to take it out of the box yourself and find your home once again.