“I am angry, but I’m going to own and express this anger through my art”
– Kweisi Gharreau
Fiction. Based on a True Stormy Season.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character, or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.
Howling winds and roaring rain.
An endless maelstrom on all sides you try to navigate, but your feet slip as you are buffeted about.
A pressure that forces your back to bend.
All sense of direction lost and cries for help are lost in the surge.
Thunder and lightning battle as the storm rages with you inside.
Something on the inside spilling out.
A dangerous reflection of things unseen.
Bones break and creak with each step.
You want to lay down but keep walking, knowing—hoping—for the end.
It feels impossible and endless, threatening to drown you in relentless torrents.
The end will come, each breath bringing the edge of the storm closer.
Your pulse beats “I’ll keep on. I’ll keep on.”
Then you reach the end, winded and exhausted, but you’re still standing.
Feel the quiet calm beyond, leave the chaos behind.
When you come out of the storm, you aren’t the same person who walked in.