Waiting For The End

Your own jailer

Once upon a time, there was a shy little girl who found it extremely hard to make friends. Oh, she knew people, and she hung out with them regularly. However...she'd never really considered them friends. And they weren't.

They talked about her behind her back, they only sought her when they had nothing better to do, no one else to hang out with. She knew that, yet complied...because, deep down, she didn't want to be alone.

She knew they thought her boring, because she was always so shy and taciturn. She was no fun. She was awkward, even the smallest attention from the smallest crowd made her antsy. She fought so hard with herself to change, but every time she was faced with it, she felt powerless.

She felt trapped in a body that wasn't hers, prisoner of a life she merely watched, as if detached from her own skin.

The world around her, it wasn't hers. She felt like a bird trapped in a cage: able to watch, but never to join. Day by day, she gripped the bars, and watched her life pass by without her. Every moment, every event, every achievement, it wasn't her.

It was someone else living her life for her, while she rot away in her cage, wasting the time she'd been granted with. She would never dare give a name to it, but she knew full well what it really was, what affected her whole existence.

As years went by, the girl felt more and more restless, her cage got smaller and smaller, until she couldn't take it anymore and, finally, she decided to set herself free. But how?

There was a way out. A physical one. Leaving. But would it be enough? The girl had always been sure that leaving would have been the answer. But was it really?

Would escaping a physical prison also rescue her soul? Would moving away really improve anything? She'd spent years convinced her cage was a place. But what if it was a state of mind, instead?

What if her mind was the cage? What then? Was there a way out?

Is it possible to escape, when you're your own jailer?