I've spent a total of fourty-eight days now, home each and every day with nothing to do and no escape. Each day has seemingly stretched to span longer than the alleged 24 hours that a typical day consists of. Each day, I'm sure my sanity drifts ever further from my grasp.
I find myself introspecting, identifying each little fault, each little triumph, and identifying their sources. Although enlightening, I am still without hope.
Granted, I have not spent all of my fourty-eight days locked up in this building, I have ventured outside, to visit friends and family, to do things, to 'shake the stink off' as my mother likes to say.
It just doesn't feel as if I have moved in time, it feels as though I have reconciled my losses and am preparing to lay to rest...all day...every day.
I have taken to calling this building - which is the same building that I have lived in my entire life - a prison, the very penitentiary that I wish to escape. I tried this morning, just for a ride on my bike. I knew the front tire was flat, so my father and I tried to air it up. The soft whistling sound that only I seemed to hear made me want to fall to my knees and wail.
The tube would not accept the air we tried to pump into it, my only option has been eradicated. Yes, I can walk I understand this, yet the warden...well..my father refuses to allow me such a luxury. I have never had the ability to do such a thing, and hope that maybe, one day, I'll be able to get up, and go for a spontaneous walk without my heart sinking -- will the warden find me? Will he keep me inside?
As I sit in what feels like my tomb, slowly closing myself off from the outside world, I begin to wonder -- I know I will one day escape this building, but will I manage it intact?
Oh how I long to see this room quickly empty out as I leave this place. Boxes filled to near impossible to carry weights, marked crudely with a sharpie before hefted down the stairs to sit with the rest of the boxes, awaiting transport to the new location.
My hopes, as much as I know they will not be dashed, seem so far out of reach that I cannot even imagine how I will begin this journey that I know I need.
All I see is this cage, the lock long broken yet the feeling of being a prisoner still remains, the warden still does his duty.
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