And so, I'm back here. Where it all started.
The depression, the insane, furiously blind desire to get out, the helplessness, and the misery. The feeling of wanting to fight back, and not knowing what to do is just too familiar to me to even try to ignore. It just stays there, festering in my very bones. Diseasing my blood. My skin.
People who just hold my hand feel the same rage that I do.
If only things were different.
If only I could see the way out.
If only I could cut these vines that bind me and keep me from breathing.
I look around me and see others... they've been here so long that this is their life. They embrace the vines and even feel secure with them straining their bodies. They don't want to get out.
And the few who do, want to take the vines with them. "We wouldn't want to outgrow ourselves, now would we?" they ask with a smile. "Sure, a change of place is good... but growing too big is something that would be too obnoxious. It's a sin that not even God would forgive"
And I see their shriveled up bodies.Bodies that could have been whole, and supple and strong. Bodies that could have helped themselves, and others. I see the vines' roots have burrowed into their skulls. God help me.
The vines will not have me. I will not allow it.
I need to get out. I'm so tired. Help.