Distortion

Background: I long to live near the ocean; I live in Michigan and my family is living paycheck to paycheck. It's all I want right now. Birds weren't meant to be caged....
You see why I write.

The world was distorted.
         As if tilted by a masterful hand, everything below the surface looked slightly surreal. The colors, the movement, all of the natural beauty of the reef stole my breath away. My lungs cried out for attention, and I was gripped with a desperate need of oxygen. They didn’t coincide: anguish and splendor.
         So I swam.
         The currents attempted to control my oddly graceful limbs as I fought my way to the surface. Sunlight filtered through the colloidal saltwater, guiding me toward relief, and familiarity. I allowed a final glance into the warm depths before my head sprouted on the surface of the rough Pacific Ocean, and an azure world of sea, sky, and sand blazed into my view.
         With my head clear of the water I felt the anomaly of gravity and surf working in harmony. The sea conformed to the contours of my shoulders and did its best to drag me back into its clutches, but my human intelligence outperformed even the strongest swells. I leveled myself vertically and my two bare feet broke the meaty sand in like a new pair of shoes. Behind me, the monstrous waves became frenzied: crashing down, roaring through the foggy evening air—shattering themselves against the glass surface after all the work of building themselves up—and expressing their displeasure when, at last, they relinquished me to the beach. As the low tide clawed at me from a distance, I smiled wonderingly at the creation of this scene, this moment in time, and its unknown yet alluring artistry.
         Hours later, I lay engulfed in the shadow of a lean palm’s feathery leaves, watching the sun shimmer beneath the salmon sprinkled brine...

And then I opened my eyes.

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.

–Smashing Pumpkins