The Wings Of A Caged Bird | First Draft

chapter 2 : i had no choice

As I look at the world passing me by through the train's window, the vivid flashback of a dream I have seen more than once abruptly comes back to me.

In those extremely detailed dreams, I am stuck behind the glass of a window. It is always the same window with a milk white sill in every dream, but it looks nothing like the window in my room. Though it is the same window, the scenery outside is never the same. But each and every time, the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful. It's a shame I only remember one of them. I think I saw it about three years ago, though I can't fathom how it still managed to remain in a corner of my mind I haven't visited in a long while.

In that dream, the world on the other side of the window was an icy shade of cobalt blue. A vast garden laid in front of me; the leaves, the flowers, the grass - everything was painted in that shade. I try to remember the color of the sky, but that bit perhaps didn't manage to catch my eye.

There were people outside. Four little boys dressed in brown were standing in a line pretending to be a train by putting their hands on each other's shoulders. I could hear their giggles as they passed me by. I remember seeing a chubby old man wearing monocles passing me by without glancing. I kept wondering why no one was looking at me, and pressed my face harder to the window. A man and woman passed me by. Finally, the woman, who wore blood red lipstick, glanced at me. But she only smirked and looked away, and continued walking with the man. I pressed my palms against the glass window, worrying about why they were not looking at me properly. I was right there. I was looking at them. It was a beautiful world outside. Then why was I inside? Why was I undeserving for a second glance?

Those dreams always ended with these thoughts. Waking up from them, I would turn beside me, and see Dawn lying right there, peacefully asleep. And I would think, if Dawn was with me, being stuck behind a window wouldn't be so bad. If Dawn looked at me, it didn't matter if no one else did.

But shattering all the illusions of the child that used to live within me, Dawn left, and I remained alone behind the glass window, forever trapped.

And then someone new came.

And I finally find myself on the other side of the window, in the blue garden, with the giggling kids and the monocles man and the gorgeous couple. They might still not look at me, but at least I am standing where they are, no longer trapped. At least, I no longer feel suffocated and jealous and worthless. At least, my palms no longer face a barrier as I inhale the sweet scented air.

At least, I am free.

My thoughts are interrupted by a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turn my head to the other side.

"What are you thinking about?" July asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing special."

"Did you forget I was here?"

"Of course not. I was thinking . . . about how you're here."

"So I'm nothing special." He pouts. He is sitting facing me with his cheek pressed to the seat's backrest, one leg on the seat and the other on the floor. The seat across from me as well as the ones on the other side of the aisle are empty. Most of the seats in this carriage is. So I don't have to worry much about being seen while talking to the air, and only alert myself when someone walks by the aisle.

"Stop that." I chuckle a little.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

How do I feel? I feel so many things at once that I can't even separate one feeling from the other anymore. All I know, is that nothing I feel is negative. Maybe that will change after a few days, when homesickness kicks in and I start worrying about all the people I left behind and become restless to go meet Dawn. But I reply, "I feel great."