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That pins and needles feeling up my throat. Cough. Splutter. It won’t budge. Tears tumble down my neck fucking up my fake tan. My boyfriend laughs, “not again”.
Anger as I watch baby otter (limpet) paw and bite at a golf ball on BBC. Narrator tells us this is common in Monterey-otters being poisoned by gold balls. Golfers still golf. That’s a birdie.
It’s cause I hold onto hope, that it happens. Eco-anxiety that’s what they’re calling it now. It doesn’t have a solid definition on google but I could give it a go.
It’s the choking sensation when yellow haired men stomp around the TV in your granny’s house and as she watches Borris Muffle she asks “would you ever get into politics?” Swallow. Cough.
I want to tell her that I don’t dream. Resentment builds like the bricks on ‘the wall’. I wanted kids.
“Ah you’re being a bit dramatic” says Mick who’s 56 and has never voted because “doesn’t make a difference nyway” and thinks that my generation are “spoilt”.
Not like the Micks of this world gave us the recession, the housing crisis or those oil drills of the coast of Kerry.
I repeat the statistics in my head to make sure I’m not going nuts.
Sense of inevitability is sometimes freeing when I think too much about my future. “The world is burning” says the devil on my shoulder “Absolve yourself of great expectations”.
That was another time actually.
In kitchen with my mum listening to the radio as 6 year olds in a school nearby learning how to “save the planet”.
Little Tim from Sallynoggin vows to stop playing his Nintendo to save electricity. Ye, blame me, blame Tim, blame the individuals. And just a head up Taoiseach, 2020 is the deadline to keep this shit at ‘Survivable Levels’ !
That’s from the Potsdam Climate Institute. I’m not being dramatic.
But what do I know!?
I’m just a 22 year old girl who doesn’t want kids for fear if it’s even ethical at this point that no longer dreams because the dates and deadlines and statistics spin around her tiny brain because no one in her governments seem to realize or care the “little things” like the sewage plant in Ringsend that spilt 320 million liters of untreated waste water into the sea.
It’s ok I can’t really swim anyway. And what’s the point in learning?
The world is burning.