*waits prepared to be reemed for existing as a stupid little high schooler*
Out the door. Through the hallway. Into another room. Stuck, stopped, at a window.
Layers of obstacles standing in my way, like layers of blankets blocking my breath. Smothered. My physical body is my life in retrospect. In retrospect, this room... It is whatever I am trapped within. A layer of suffocating blankets.
Getting out looks easy. It looks <u>so easy</u> . The leafing tree, new with spring, sitting outside that window... It seems so easily attainable. It is right there. I've gotten through that door, walked across that hallway, stumbled around the chairs scattered in that room... Standing at a window, staring at the face of my soul's freedom. I reach out to touch it, to feel one of the new, soft leaves... It's innocence lures me with a sick taunting, as my hand hits the window that blocks me from freedom and happiness.
The hand falls. It isn't mine, it couldn't be. This cold piece of flesh could never be part of me.
But it's still there, and I feel it's pain... Disappointment. Sheer disappointment. A pain like no other.
All it wanted, all I wanted, was to be free from this. Get out of here, breathe fresh air, escape being smothered, feel the freedom of an open parking lot containing a little red car, a set of keys to it's ignition, and a road that leads me as far away as I can get.
But this window, it disagrees...
Smash it. Destory it. It supplies no way to open it, so I will make my own way.
The thick glass would prevent my weak knuckles on a disappointed hand from creating any sort of opening. A paper-weight, a porcelain mug, a computer for God's sake... Anything. Anything that can break that barrier.
Without warning, that downtrodden limb, a hand plagued and posessed, reaches for anything, everything... anything it can find to accomplish it's task.
A shatter. Glass flies. Warm air rushes in, invading the artificial, air conditioned atmosphere.
Two seconds, and it is over.
My freedom comes from crawling through broken glass, escaping far from unscathed. Left with bloody appendages that are barely alive enough to feel the pain. Or maybe they just don't care.
Maybe as my feet hit the soft grass outside the window, a few feet away from that leafed symbol of freedom, I realize that I can't feel the earth beneath me... I can't feel the glorious sun radiating happiness upon my artificially UV-kissed cheeks... And I realize that no smile has formed between them.
No form of freedom is truly attainable. I broke free, or so I thought... For I still feel nothing.
Or perhaps I only broke free of a single layer. One smothering blanket has been detangled from the seventeen others. I am able to breathe no better.
So I will stay here, then... Confined to this chair. Trapped in a placid box of a room. Smothered by 18 blankets. Each selfishly, maliciously soaking up my precious Oxygen.....
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