It never ends.
It just changes shape and design, and sometimes, colour too.
It catches you off guard with its varying textures and threads.
One day, it circles your neck and caresses your breasts ever so slightly like a silk scarf falling off you.
The next, it holds you hostage inside your own body. Your stomach churns but doesn't let go of the bile. The tears stifle and choke you from within but fail to escape through your eyes. Your teeth, your tongue, your lips, your fists are all clenched but you cannot attack. You stay that way... Unhinged and on edge with no flight in sight.
Then there are those rare days when a few brief moments of lucidity manage to loosen the grip and lubricate your parched throat. You decide to reach out and speak. The words you spout make perfect sense to you. They describe the ambiguity, the heaviness, the weight, the gravity and even the release. You lean on them for what it's worth. And then you open your eyes looking for a reaction from your audience but there is none. Because there was no one there to begin with.

No, it never ends.
It continues to snake its way across the varied surfaces around you, from the cool, tiled floors to the warm red earth.
You don't even know when it began.
All you know is that it's determined as hell and as unpredictable as your feelings.
It will render you useless and unable to construct a future for yourself.
It will take away everyone and everything you have ever loved, and all the joy and laughter that you painstakingly saved for a rainy day.
It will leave you empty and without replenishment.
Except for your insecurities and fears and sorrow. It will make sure you get a refill of those, and in abundance too.
So you empty yourself and you try and make the most of the time you have before the next wave comes in.
Because you know that it will never end.
Yesterday's wolf will be back tomorrow or the day after. And this time, it could be dressed in stilettos and red lipstick.
Or it could arrive with a noose around its neck.