Thoughts from Trapped Places

By , Black Earth, WI
I woke up screaming. No one came to help me.

My life consists of me, sitting at a desk, wishing desperately to jump out the window. Not to die, just to get out, I could walk off the fall, I could run even though I’d only have to walk, I don’t think anyone would notice, if I just quietly opened one and slipped away.

I’ve seen too many people die after high school. Not really die, just fall into line. The line that everyone stands in and the one they spend their lives inching closer and closer to the front of, and they don’t even know what’s there, or if anything is there, there’s just some hope of fulfillment pressing on their brains, and finally they get there and it’s nothing when they said it’d be everything, they said if you followed all the rules and got good enough grades and said the right things at the right times you’d be rewarded with at his great feeling of completion and wholeness, but really you’re just up there alone, looking back on the line with regret, and you realize at the end that it’s all wasted, that you should’ve just taken off towards the horizon and never looked back because with every new mortgage and every facebook post and every simple task you’ve completed on a daily basis while staring into space you’ve died a little bit more, so much until you were dead before you reached the end of the line, and there was never much hope at all because all you did was listen to the people you loved, because they didn’t know because how could they, or maybe we all know and it’s easier to pretend we don’t, or maybe the Earth is just spinning and spinning and spinning and we all get too dizzy to function appropriately.

All I know is I love the light in the morning and right before the night the best. I know I want to live outside the window that for now I’m forced to stare out everyday, because I’m gonna get out, I’m gonna get out and run as fast as I can to get away from this nothingness, because why should this one life consist of anything but somethingness, why should I sell my soul for a world that wants me to be the same as everyone else and maybe I would be the same if everyone was happy, but everyone’s miserable, and maybe we’re programmed to be and it’s inescapable but I’d rather swim and dive and explore in my misery than sit in cold rooms and be consumed by it, maybe you can never really run away but I’m going to try.





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