A Marriage with Captivity
My days are spent in captivity. There are no walls, chains or bars. It’s a prison of expectations, of conformity, of false ideologies.
Thoughts, logic, and ideas stay afar. Ambitions, passion, dreams are luxuries I cannot afford.
But it was not always so.
Once, my passion was a whirlwind, my courage an ocean.
I spoke my thoughts. I took risks. I got inspired. I was a shining beam of energy.
I was alive.
My days are spent in captivity. But who is my captor?
Not he, obviously. He did not lie or force me into this. There never were any false promises of anything better.
I think… I think I invited myself into this.
After all, wasn’t I all those things I said earlier? And if so, who could have ever forced upon me a life I did not want? Who could have held me down had I not allowed it? Who could have stopped me but myself?
But does that mean I deserve this? Or that I should keep up with this?
Is change really so sacrilegious?
It doesn’t matter now. The questions are useless. Useless, unless I stop asking it to myself, and bring it out before the world. Before them. And that, I cannot do.
Or… will not do? I don’t know.
Is it that I cannot change? Or that I don’t want to?
Is it my self-sacrifice, or downright weakness?