A Thunderstorm in the Arctic

remember when mother used to tell us to prepare for rainy days as we trudged in our turqoise colored rainboots through the fields adorned with mud tracking our each and every step? i looked up to her as she cracked a smile, showing her missing index tooth, her lightly wrinkled cheeks gently caressing the soft raindrops. being too young to comprehend what she truly meant, i shot back a beaming smile; something that i would come to lose, albeit unbeknownst to me.

since young, we’ve been indoctrinated the following dogma: do your best and strive for the stars; nothing could ever go wrong if you dream big and oh dear, everything that could possible go wrong went wrong with everybody. we were told to do whatever we wanted, yet we were confined from everything we could have ever done (how fucking ironic does that sound?).¬†we lost our minds in this already mad world; our bearings viciously grinded to dust each time we refused to conform. we were kept in a birdcage full of burgeoning rain and thunderstorms, unable to see through the facades being pulled over our eyes. ataraxia turned foreign to our entire being as the weight of the world both beared down on our shoulders and bared its fangs if we opposed our indoctrinated & nurtured “creed”. who would we become if we were no longer who we truly are? what would we be doing if we aren’t being made out of a cookie cutter factory? it feels as if the vast green plains are slowly being weeded & cleared out by unrelenting blades and fearless tractors – barren wastelands of hard rigid gravel now covered what was once regarded as our Avalon. should we really accept this as part of normality?

sometimes it feels as though as i’ve gone through six days at the bottom of the Arctic ocean; tired, breathless and powerless. my soul runs cold and my innards are dyed a blinding white – more than what the most pristine pile of snow could ever attain. hundreds of thousands of nerve jolt me back to consciousness each time i struggle to move even an inch of my frostbite ridden fingertips. it feels like flames searing through each and every cell – each and every fibre of my body – reducing it to nothing more than stardust to be given back to the universe. so here i am, frozen inside & stuck right smack in the middle of a hurricane I can never seek shelter from.

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