Grey Skies

Three years have come and passed. Three years till I am thirty. Oh, how time has passed. Nineteen in Europe still feels at arm's length, yet it is merely a dream. And yet, in my dream, I am dragged into the catacombs. I cry out for aid, but no one is there to save me. I fight against my aggressors, but an even more vigorous beating meets every effort to escape. The only questions in my mind are, will my inability to fall into line and believe the lies that come out of the mouth of the clerisy land me in prison? Will I be able to stand defiant in front of the tyrant when the day comes?
Many of those who know me might say that growing up, I was not a problematic child. I spent time alone. Loved to read the dictionary, daydream while staring at the wall, listen to music, or play chess alone. I doubt anyone would say I had a problem with authority. I was loud but obedient. I was rambunctious, but it always seemed I kept it to myself. I spoke to everyone yet spent time with my thoughts.
Today, not so. I distrust all who proclaim understanding. I defy commands and subvert narrative-based facts. I, too, fall into the pitfalls of propaganda at times, but I always refuse to remain with my initial beliefs. I seek truth. I question all. I probably ask over 1,000 questions a day. Sometimes I get an answer. Sometimes I don't. The point isn't to find answers; it's to question even my own emotions. Am I correct in being mad? Do I have the justification to be happy? Was that really a gold and blue dress?
My friends continuously remind me that I read too much into things. A few new movies came out last week, and everyone raged about doing the "double feature." I thought it was insensible, as I preferred to spend it with my amateur designs. I did watch one of the films. It was a great film. It left me pondering.
I had gone out to dinner with friends after disappearing for a while. It's not that I don't like them. I love them, but sometimes… I just need a break, you know? Anyway, we were having dinner, and, with my antics, and this being a war movie, I began to break down the moral quandaries the film brought up about war. What of it? To what end? Are we even remembered if we fall? Is the death of many any justification to save the other many? Or was it a front for the wants of our wishes? And what would make a war holy enough to justify the killings of millions? Why the bright orange colors?
This seemed too much for my friends. They initially entertained me, but as I pressed and brought counterarguments to their every "peace, peace, above all, we choose peace," they shut me off with a wave and a dismissal into their menial and straightforward worries. At that, I tuned out and finished my meal.
As soon as the ticket was handed to us. I paid my share and took my route to a local coffee shop. Once again, my friends thought to "console me" as I seemed lost in my thoughts. They enjoy my presence and I of theirs, but these days, so much is on my mind that the issues of my daily life are of no consequence.
I sense a dark cloud rolling in. I know not its size or the extent of the storm, but it is coming around. I am not the only one to feel it. My friends refer to it.
I remember eavesdropping on a conversation at one of my study sessions at Mind Coffee. Their voice, soft and quivered with every word, as though in terror of what others may comment on their misunderstandings of the present events, as one woman had just heard of the war that broke over the desert gold once again. Apparently, it was unprovoked, and our allies had to make difficult choices to defend themselves from the aggressors.
I agreed with her sentiment. I believe that any have a right to defend their lands, home, and family. But at this moment, I no longer believed anything the media or the Green House aired. The chit-chatter of the news within the room always remains hidden from the rest of us. One could only imagine what they would say to each other when the cameras were black-screened and the rec light was off.
"A surprise terrorist attack was committed against our allies in the south. Equipment and support are on the way as we stand with our allies. They have had a hard road to freedom and stand, we will, by their side." The Spokesperson continues, "The immovable wall, the all "seeing-eye, could not detect the untrained military that penetrated the defenses of our allies. We have spoken to the region's president. We are working on a resolution to send them only, if at all, 10 billion dollars in military aid. We will send the aid in defensive (useless) fortresses and enough munitions and ammunitions that they require but for the day."
20th one, and it won't be the last one this year. Our pockets emptied, our armament depleted, and our defenses left open. I do not want war. With family members enlisted, I am the one at a considerable loss. But what am I to do? I know not of the geopolitical or historical precedence of any region, and my two cents only fall on the nearest vending machine that doesn't want them anyway. They only take Apple card, and even at that, charge me extra for using it.
Seeking facts and strumming them into their bitter sound seems to be a crime punishable by loss of self-preservation and the security of my family. I can't even seem to ask answerless questions before someone is too trigger-happy towards their closest target.
What am I, a simple, college-indebted, questioning individual, to do when my concerns are not about how I feel but about how the environment around us is changing when we sideline objective truth when debates have devolved into screaming ad hominem matches instead of confronting steel-manned beliefs with conflicting truths. We have seemingly forgotten how the environments we change and, in turn, changes us.