Outside the sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the sky, but there is a hurricane brewing in my soul. I've boarded up the windows on the shack I call my heart but it's only a half-hearted attempt because the walls are so weary. I doubt they can weather another storm. What do I need with a heart anyways? Many have lived their lives without love and have survived. And what is love? Isn't it just a guise to increase consumer spending on birthdays and holidays and that god awful February 14? I look at the boards and scattered sandbags. If the storm breaks the shack, I won't fix it again. I will leave my fate to destiny. I will come to terms...with my homeless heart.