…That is how it looks on the inside, a partially frozen river that flows through this heart with snowflakes, hovering, floating, and a few drenched. These are memories that chime between the rocks. Some are carried forward; some are held back for a while and then eventually carried forward. But none of them has been quite like me, not yet. I may be just another snowflake in this crazy blizzard, but I’m different, painted in a unique color, violet. I’m silent. The temperature of my skin is lower than any of my white friends. And to this heart, as I dive in, I’ll be a memory, colder, sharper and longer.
Me and water, we’re gonna have a fight. No matter who takes the last stand, the heart where this river flows will be the one to suffer. No matter if this river carries me forward, or if I hold it back, it won’t be transparent anymore, nor will I hold my color. No one will ever be able to see through it anymore. And I’m about to leave my mark, about to haunt this heart forever, no matter how far it flows.
But right now, I’m descending deep, barreling through this thunderous sky. With absolutely no trace of the beginning, I’ve been propelled up to this point. It’s not the rattle on the outside, but the silence inside that empowers me. Those around me are staring, frowning, and a few ranting. I’m indeed the strongest of them all. I didn’t choose to be. I’m, no doubt, different than them all, even different than what I could have been. I didn’t wanna be.
I’ll be the one to make a difference, the only memory to cause this heart to feel surprised, obviously in a wicked way. I can’t help it, THAT is what I’m to do. I wonder if I will be strong enough to freeze my dominion, just the way it is for eternity. Though I can see it beginning to grow aware of my arrival, the currents are sharper, the river, agitated. Honestly, I don’t wish to hold a higher ground. Even I want to fade away, dissolving, melting slowly, and leaving behind a trail, a memory of a memory. But that is not the way, it’s going to be. I can see now, I’m stronger than this panicked, frantic and… well, transparent river.
Right before the touchdown, I realize it’s not just me. The river, it’s different, changed not like ever before. I begin to think I caused it to change, even before touching it. It’s pride of victory, and a fear of the final war. But it’s not fighting. The river, engulfed in denial, has refused to even touch any of us. A warrior afraid of defeat and still more afraid of victory has fallen on his own sword. It can’t have me hold it back, nor can it afford to carry me. It’s too scared, too scared of the unfamiliar color.
As I’m about to touch the surface, it retreats, further and further more. The deeper I go, the deeper it gets, the higher the walls become. And after a while they close in, from the top. I didn’t know it could do that. I’m trapped in a bubble with transparent walls. With my strength, sealed in with me, I’m a memory that this heart will touch no time soon. I’m gonna have to wait, wait for this heart weaken, wait for the current to slow down, wait for the walls of this bubble of denial to fall. And I’ll strike again with all my strength. I’ll freeze this river, seal it with its own sorrow. And even if I melt away and dwell in, I’ll change it forever. I’ll drive every last perfectly transparent drop into imperfection, into translucency, into violet.
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