Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Round Room

I'm sitting in the middle of a room. And I'm not sure of the way out. I can feel the sunlight but i don't know where the windows are. I know there's a door--paper and opportunity keep falling on my lap--but I can't find it.

I look up at a great expanse of sky. I see the stars. I can locate the moon. I know the outside world exists.

But, the walls still surround me. What good is the ability to look up when you can't find your way out? I'm in jail and I don't understand what I did. There was no trial, I had no justice. Convicted and found guilty without anyone by my side.

I receive notice in the mail and I've seen my prison cell, looked out of my bars; I know where I'm headed. I can't comprehend how it's gotten this far.

It's no consolation that education is still possible. My friends can write, I can write. I won't be isolated. But all I can think about is telling people I'm guilty, I did something bad, I'm being sent away. I'm afraid my friends will leave me.

The day arrives and I'm frantic. I'm running around without getting anywhere. I don't want to accept my fate. I can't find anything. What do you bring with you for a year? Oddly enough, my mom is taking me. The living person with whom I have the most convoluted relationship is the one handing me off to my jailer.

I want to blame her. Because, in the world of victimhood, everything is her fault. But, I know. It's me. I did this. And I will be facing the consequences.

A mixture of thoughts from the day and the dream of a month ago...

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