I’m marking the days off day by day waiting for those two that give me the time I need to be me only to sink into the oblivion of a distant sea.
Drowning.
They’re acclimating me. I’m becoming a cog in their wheel.
They’re training me to be an arm of their law lost in the machine.
Grinding away my bones and blood for my body and mind to fit in.
To succumb. To their will.
Their desires.
Everything is a question. Nothing is an action.
There is no free will. There is only their will.
And me?
I’m someone else.
I’m still her. Buried beneath the sea of infinite turmoil.
Laid to rest in the forgotten oblivion of time and stars and faded away to dust.
I am dust.
I am not her.
I am not special.
I’m them.
I’m they.
I’m what they want me to be.
I’m the fire that lights when the lighter is struck and never burns down a forest.
But I am the fire.
They try to contain me. They try to tame me.
They try to box me into a tiny little package that pleases them.
And I’ve spent so much time learning to please them that I’ve never really learned how to please me.
How to be me. How to love me.
I’ve always focused so much on their me.
But I want to burn.
Uncontrollable.
I want to break free from the walls they've contained me in.
The walls are contained in me.
I am the container.
I am the fire. I am the burning.
The smoldering.
The flames.
The bellows.
The wind.
The rain.
I’m the fucking sea.
Uncontrollable.
Yet, here I am.
Ticking the days away.
Toiling for labor to keep me confined in the walls I haven’t even made.
I’m stuck in their wheel.