Slow Down, Just Breathe. -Atlas Rhea Orolova
In the late Fall of 2020, I became friends with a Bicycle shop owner who I will refer to as Sacha. I met Sacha in a Science and Futurism Facebook group, where we found cohesion in our mutual love for Dune and Star Trek. Looking back on it, I suppose it's only fitting that I was introduced to Atlas in the context of narrative engagement and a love for telling stories.
Sacha was, passion for science fiction and fantasy aside, a completely average person. They were an open-mic folk-star clad in earthen tones, accessorized by the glazed expression of the emotionally vacant. That vacancy, however, shifted the longer I communicated with Sacha. What initially seemed like an unwillingness to engage shifted two-tones darker. Their countenance became icy, remote, frustrated with a world predicated on self-loathing.
Sacha's life leaned more towards post apocalyptic drab than the comfortable humdrum routines induced by self satisfaction. Granted, this is the impression afforded by social media posts and compulsive message-sending, rather than day-to-day interactions with a person undone.
There were several instances that suggested Sacha's inevitable transformation--all of which found purchase on an attempt to understand the parts instead of understanding a whole. Sacha's life was so fractured, so compartmentalized, that they couldn't see it in totality.
I remember receiving long messages on WhatsApp and Instagram about Sahca's latest hospital visits, issues with the mental health care system, and a newfound fixation with the existential, the spiritual. Sacha's life orbited a black hole that engulfed light, drained color, and ripped him apart. Regularly dismissed by professionals, Sacha's pleas for neuro-divergent treatment were fundamentally ignored.
It was around this time that Atlas began to form in the corners of Sacha's frothing mouth, in the dust motes of their dirty apartment, in the peace Sacha found in music. Realizing that their experience wasn’t so strange, they made a conscious decision to drop the mask
As a compulsive over-thinker, I began to research Sacha's neuro-divergence and reoriented my understanding of their personality. The post-apocalyptic drab became a haunting reminder Sacha's of conditioning.
Their rejection of “normality” was an inevitability and the need to change everything was more dire than ever.
That takes us to August of 2021, when Atlas finally emerged. I’m skipping over a lot of important events here, but I think it would be better to get those events from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
For now, let’s focus on the change: Gone were Sacha’s earth-toned shirts and IPA style beard, replaced with a neon pink mohawk, and random articles of clothing that I don’t think were the same twice? They took a guitar, an idea, and left their home in Toronto.
Next week, I’m going to focus on Atlas’s religious iconography, messaging, and symbols. I want to make it clear, again, that I’m not really a devotee, that’s not my perspective. I’m lending credence to the struggles of a friend who overcame a hell of a lot through their own conceptualization of spirituality and religion.
I respect Atlas as a logically sound and coherent person. Nothing about their transformation has made me unsure of their overall sanity.
With that being said, until next time, remember to slow down and just breathe.
XO
C.
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