Through The Bars

02 December 2009

My room, my home, has become a cage. I feel like I'm an animal in a zoo nobody visits. Like an idiot, like a stupid creature in a stupid cage and everybody knows the stupid thing is there, it's just that nobody cares. I feel like I'm throwing pieces of paper through the bar with hasty scribbled pleas for help. I am here on my own accord, I returned here, but it wasn't a cage when I left it.

I tried the world out, tried to live it without giving it what it's asking me. It asks for tickets, for passports, for proofs of worth. Diplomas, experience, knowledge, skill, I had very little of what was expected of me yet still I tried, and I failed miserably not because I was ill-prepared, but because I realized I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be a slave to the corporate bullshit I so hated, I didn't want to be a machine churning out produce after produce after produce. I didn't want to deal with childish problems of idiots from half the world over. I was pathetic, I was miserable at what I was doing because I was miserable doing it.