Our generation remembers war. When I was 6, Saddam Hussain started a barrage of missiles towards Tehran. Our neighborhood was exactly next to an air defense base. So our block witnessed a lot of explosions. I remember the piercing sound of sirens, the anti-missile artillery flying in the sky like wish-granting comets, except they would fulfill the antithesis of one's wish.
There were pieces of intercepted or exploded airborne missiles falling onto peoples' rooftops that would look like the severed head of a deep sea dragon fish to my 6-year old self... one of the most terrifying of all leviathans from the abyss of the Mariana Trench. These distorted metal fragments had been launched to seek and hunt us. The leviathan monsters, dwelling and swimming in the ocean's deepest and darkest corners, often arrived at night, leaving a trail of flares in the night sky, casting a dim light on our gloomy world; a light that was nothing more than a bating lantern.
We quickly learned the only way to survive them was to delve even deeper than the ocean's deepest darkest depths to hide from all these beasts: taking refuge in the building basements.
The instructional broadcast on TV detailing the response to a potential chemical onslaught, where an alien looking figure with a biological mask gear, staring directly into the camera with hollow eyes, was telling me how not to be scared; something straight out of Pink Floyd's The Wall animation. I was always scared of the alien on TV who was telling me not to be scared. That is the sort of trauma that you can't explain to Western people.
Now with this new shit hitting the fan, a lot of us are experiencing the resurgence of that trauma, reawakening from beneath layers of dust and oblivion. The Mariana Trench monsters are flying in the ocean above us once more.
I just hate this feeling.
The world has always been, and will always remain, a place of suffering. No doubt. I have made peace with this rigged game that nature plays a long time ago. But sometimes, I just yearn for the world to not remember our existence for just a few moments. As if it gets momentarily distracted by a supernova popping up somewhere, turns its head to see what it was, and it would be days before it turns its head back to humans. So we can take a short break of the tax, the currency of existence: the suffering.
