The Storm

Here I sit, gazing upon the lights of the city, like stars sprinkled among the silhouettes of trees… I wait. I wonder. When will my spark shine as bright as the lights before me? Like a flickering street lamp, my hope is a fragile inconsistency. Illuminated snowflakes dance beneath the lone pole standing strong at the rear of this building wing, swirling and floating so freely that it’s almost chaotic… But they are where they should be, where the wind has taken them. I am where I should be, where life has taken me.

Here I sit, in my hospital room on the mental health ward, trying to turn my chaos into something beautiful… My story, my process… It is not exactly a pretty one. Chapters filled with stormy rage, lonely moments of darkness, and unpredictable chaos… As they do with snowflakes dancing on the wind, some humans will look away from it all, not wanting to witness the sure sign of a season’s ending. Others may take time to appreciate the beauty that can be found when one slows down to look closer. Every blizzard is made up of countless tiny artworks created by mother nature, each flake unique and perfect in it’s own right. Every life, similarly, is composed of millions of moments… Some fade instantly, like the first flakes to hit the unfrozen ground. Others will pile up and seem insurmountable. But with the right skills and tools, snow can be transformed into art, play, weapons, or shelter…

Here I sit, in my sixth hospital admission, looking for the spark in my heart that wills me to live. I step forward now, ready to turn the messiness of my life into an opportunity for artistic healing. It is time for me to show the world that I am not stronger than the storm, as I tried to be for so long, no… I am composed of endless unique parts that I will no longer reject… You see, I am the storm - in all it’s chaotic beauty. This is the season of “me”, and I am ready to frolic through a cathartic journey of self-discovery.