When I grow up I want to be an artist/dog

on sex during a storm, wanting something so bad, looking through windows, and becoming my own dog.

When I have sex I can't feel anything. I'm too focused on the storm. The wind is moving the tree outside my window in a way I've never seen it move. I'm scared that it'll fall over onto my house. Then I'd have to hire movers to move all of my possessions into a more expensive and ugly house.