Freedom in a curbed Cage

She sat on her sofa, legs crossed, music blasting in her ears, the ear-phones almost dangling from her ears but the volume of music was so high that she could hear the music properly and bobbed her head slightly to the beats. She kept scrolling up and down her newsfeed occasionally liking a post or grunting at another. It was supposed to be a night of freedom for her. She had just given her final exams, she was supposed to enjoy, forgetting about all the worries and exploiting the beginning of her holidays in the best way possible – but somehow it seemed impossible.

She tried reading a book, from one of the many unread books that she possessed. It worked at first like it always did. Somehow books had a way of soothing her, making her loose herself in the extraordinary ways of writing, awing her that a human being was capable of producing such forceful sentiments through a chord of sentences. However, the first book didn’t grasp her attention. She tried a second one instead. That attempt too went in vain. Today even her books didn’t placate her state of unease.

She knew that she had all her freedom, at least for a week if not all three months of her holidays but something continuously pulled her back imprisoning her in a cage of heteronomy. The orange sun blazed down on the cage making the shadows of the bars scarring her freedom. A bar being dedicated to a lost friend, another one to the fear of bad grades, and yet another to limit her not to be too happy about the uncertain life. Her brain was clouded with the shadows of those bars which drove her insane.

She tried to make conversation with the people around her, but all she heard was that she was getting fatter every day. Or what happened to the pretty hair she had a few years ago. Or suggestions about what she might do with her life, which was all nonsense to her ears. She was tired of being steered around by people – by society. They didn’t understand that they could only give her suggestions, not define her ambitions or write her story for her.

She squatted away the mosquitoes that bothered her constantly and tried to search for something to distract herself. But how could she distract herself, when the only distraction she had was her existence which ultimately led to the bars of the curbed cage.

She tried to sleep but even sleep didn’t comply. Looking at the clock she saw that it was 2am and realized that she hadn’t slept for two rounds of the clock even though she planned to get sleep worth a year on this very day but sometimes life just doesn’t want one to follow their plans. She wondered what the reason was – was she sadder beyond the point that nothing seemed to interest her? The tears didn’t act in accordance with her thoughts and somehow she couldn’t let the water that weighed down her chest fill her lungs and come out as a drought.

Her last resort was recording her feelings in black ink – or to be accurate, typed in a perfect font with a laptop whose letter ‘H’ was broken.Image

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2 thoughts on “Freedom in a curbed Cage

  1. Beautiful………. :), really!! A perfect explanation of the true feelings, which in my opinion needs a profound level of observation. Keep writing, And will wait till I am alive for an inspirational story written by Sara Syed ;)!

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