Ihvertfall Kråken er Demontert

Ralka Skjerseth
Aug 28, 2017 · 3 min read

People have been writing about crimson skies and the wings of Icarus and the haze of a broken soul and the pain of existing and I might have done it too multiple times but I don’t find my soul in the places where I thought I existed; just like being under the crimson skies or on Icarus’ back — carried with his wings — or in the midst of the haze of a broken soul. I don’t exist. I don’t find my essence of existing. I don’t find my facticity as a being. I don’t need to be told that my writings have no meaning, that they are vague, they are dull, they remind you of bad faith, they are like artificial concepts with no sense of authenticity, because I know it already. I myself am a concept. I am just like a man-made trope in fictions. I’m that kind of hypocrite who curses at the concept of a manic pixie dream girl — ignoring the fact that I myself am a concept.

I wanna be sedated by authenticity so that I won’t ever exist in this man-made world again because here, people only want to hear things they could relate to and they only create works of art that fill the broken pieces of themselves as a false affirmation that they are not alone for they want their feelings to be validated — aside of that, no, your work is not an art if people can’t relate to it and it does not go along with the construct that they created. We all want something to believe in. It’s a coping mechanism. So we created constructs, views, imaginary perceptions — everything’s cherry-picked in order to suit our own shoes; because we don’t want to be invalidated by harsh realities and things we don’t want to hear.

“Don’t let the crows dismantle you. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them fly away from the cage of identity politics and segmentations. Don’t let them define themselves as beings who are condemned to be free. Don’t let them create works of art that are based on their own idealism and will to power. Don’t let them have the privilege to be authentic. Don’t let them stop conforming to the roles they’re supposed to play in this man-made world. Don’t let them. Don’t let them. Don’t let them — “

— those are the doctrines we hear everyday.

“Dismantle the crows before they dismantle you”, you said, out of fragile insecurity for you don’t want your (very limited) (actual) power to be attacked and you want to keep being on the top of hierarchy with the mundane conformity that is rationalized by the masses as you’re the one who taught them to fear the uncommon.

And so, there come those songs and poems under the same topics and same writing styles all the time, there comes the similarity of views in every group of people in every rooms I come across, there comes the mindset that everyone has some kind of role that they have to stick up to as a matter of surviving, and everyone said that it is the right way of living — wait, who is everyone? and who defines the inherent standard of what’s right and wrong?

Yeah, right, no one cares,

because well, at least the crows are dismantled.

)
Ralka Skjerseth

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They tried to bury us; they didn’t know we were the seeds.