Wind, Rain, Stars, & Me

September 25, 2010
It's a jail. Bars all around me, mud underneath me, stars above me. I look up at the stars with tears in my eyes. I'm trapped here with no way out, people just stand there and laugh not noticing the bars I am trapped behind. The people, I thought, were my friends. Even the people who are supposed to always be there for you, to protect you, and help you, are standing there laughing with everyone else. No one realizes my life and what it is like. It's just not right. My own self doesn't know what has happened to me. The center of my life is God, but no one realized how hard it with for me after leaving my home. Instead of making the new place appealing and wonderful, it is a jail. I can't break out of. So I stand here, sobbing my tears, no one sees. I've almost given up all hope now. I am thankful, for it begins to rain, and rain it did. It starts to down pour. With there being no roof on my small prison, no one sees the tears falling down my face being washed away with the river flowing from my hair down to my toes. I look up and close my eyes, for this, is my only happiness. Rain. It washes away all my fears, worries, and anger. For this short time it is only me and the water, streaming down my face. This is me. The me that is free and running alongside birds flying low and horses grazing in the pasture. Jumping on one of the horses, riding off, all my chains are gone. The whole world is peaceful. My best friend is the wind, it blows my hair in a way that soothes me from the outside in. Another is the rain washing away everything. And the last is night, stars, moon, wonder. The stars are so free, hanging there in the sky but they are also trapped, trapped hanging there not able to move. That is how I feel. So free as I ride on the back of this beautiful animal, the wind flowing through my hair, over my face. The rain washing me clean. But I am trapped. Trapped with the knowledge that when I open my eyes I will still be imprisoned in this small cell, chained. I must wait until the 18th, then I am free. Free to go and do as I please. But it is still far too far away from where I am now. So now I will just stand here imagining; hopefully, someday, it will come true. All true. This is it, my life. Maybe it will never change, maybe it will. You can't tell your own future. I can't do anything, nothing I say or do will change what will happen to me in the end. For I can not decide my destiny. Sometimes, like now, I wish I could. For then, I could make my story better. But since it is not possible, I will stand here with my eyes closed, looking up at the sky, imagining, until something changes in this small cell.

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