fly high

all the inferiorities in the world are louder now, white noise in my sleep. they watch us flourish, and now they’re screaming. they’re screaming to wake us up from this daze we’re all in. the bubble of warmth invisible hands encase us in. we’ve let their screams shatter the bubble before, but not anymore. the bubble has duct tape now, it can float higher than all seven skies. they keep screaming, and they always will. some people’s purpose of existence is to continue to scream as they watch the world around them flourish. the greatest act of resistance is to train your mind to hear them as white noise. the hardest is when it’s your loved ones screaming. your mom, your dad, a sibling. they’re screaming at you to stop going. to stop flourishing, and to instead live under the encased “bubble” they’ll provide you, in other words, jail. but you’ve been busy building your own bubble, some call it a hot air balloon the way it’s been able to fly amongst the whirlpools of a tornado. you’re the bubble. and by resisting, by hearing their screams as white noise, you’re adding another layer of duct tape to your bubble. fly high my beautiful angels.