Swimming in a cyclone... waves of emotions eat away integrity. Cognitive will is dwindling with the harsh emotional attack... Feeling like drowning, the winds, and rain pounding... Get forced under; have to fight to the surface…. Back towards the light. The sour bitterness overwhelms the senses... Call for help; hear the replies of the abyss as it swallows the cry like a cold drink... keep fighting. Then as if nothing had ever disturbed this great beast, the waves of emotions, and tremors of painful, scornful laughter cease... Feels like soaring miles above all the ridicule, emotional turmoil and harsh times.

Then as if the good meant nothing... thrown down into the array of confusion, chaos, and madness. Becoming one of them... Hurts more to take than to give scorn. If only there was a way to let go... violence will solve nothing... cant fight the storm. Like a ship attempting to vacate an abandoned harbor as the storm comes crashing down upon the vessel, knocking it around not unlike a rag doll. Friends, hard work, physical activities are the few ways one can escape from it... resist it... not become it.

Others have no problem standing up the laughter... the harsh waves of a brutal cyclone... Still spinning... fear each coming day... wonder if accepted... fearing drowning in the midst of this horrible abomination. Seems imperative that the end will be near, do not submit... continue fighting... Keep surviving, another swell... build up... die off... that is the sequence... Thrown about in the confusion... colors even become blended. Friends are friends?

Everything seems to be part of the great storm that hurls its might towards all things worth living for... parents seemingly trying to help, only seem like another gust of icy-cold wind, crushing the weak meager walls of dignity... Leaving remains of once sought after dreams... opportunities lost, lessons slip by unlearned... Life is stripped away... The storm often becoming too much to bear... Mental stability is beginning to weaken faster than dignity can console the damage... Caught in an endless hurricane of harsh emotions, scornful laughter, and devastating ridicule... Threshold is nearing capacity, need to unwind... The storm overwhelms... The deep, vast inky-blue creature, that is so unmercifully breaking apart all that is... Feels like the end...

Out of nowhere, as if from an unseen angel, spirit, or luck... call it what you will... a small door, or other piece of debris, floats up and allows for a moment of support, or two... of rest, of peace as the storm rages around you... the abundance of harsh energy deflected by something so small, so unstable, so... friendly. Allowing for a brief moment of consolation. No matter how small, the momentary rest reminds that there is hope, the end is always closer than it seems... the storm can be beaten... Continue fighting the storm, full of scorn. The storm using its wrath to release anger upon the self, easing its own pressure, and anxiety at the cost of integrity, virtue, along with other crushing effects...

All the while the body sits in a desk... at school, in a classroom. The outside looks as if things are alright, as if things couldn’t be better, but in fact they could be... for inside a storm is brewing, and someone is fighting for all they believe in... The body is only a shell easily penetrable by the harshness of evil tones, ridiculing remarks and scorn as too how superior one is to the other...

Remain strong and all will come to good in the end.