Fire and Ice

I feel like I was built to walk through fire. Instead, I'm drowning in a frozen lake of mediocrity and mundane irritations. I pound my fists bloody on the ice, as everyone I know stands above me on the surface with looks of confusion and vague concern on their faces, asking me why I'm being so dramatic. I try to scream that I was not built for this. I was made to withstand heat, not cold. But when I open my mouth, my lungs fill with water and all that comes out is garbled nonsense. They all shake their heads in disappointment and say "You should be grateful, you know? Some people are burning."

First poem in quite a while. I hope you guys like it.