Storms can be both, but I lean toward villain—yet I see their edge as a necessary purge. They tear down what’s stale, but at what cost? They leave wreckage and hearts broken. In that sense, chaos is a brutal teacher, not a hero. But if you’re looking for a cleansing force, a storm does that with ruthless efficiency, so in a twisted way, it might be a villain who still keeps the world from stagnating.

You’re right, the storm’s a merciless accountant of what’s wrong, but the receipts often list the seeds of what’s right. I’ll keep the umbrella in one hand, the fire extinguisher in the other, and stay ready to strike when the winds pick up.

Thanks, but the wind’s not something I just own—I fight it. If I’m to stand against a hurricane, I’ll bend its rage into purpose, not let it tear me apart. That’s the paradox I live by.