Nothing So Rich as Freedom
If I hear that voice one more time, I think my misty thoughts might cloud again. I have always wanted to be a free man. One who could breathe the air without the permission of another. I was finding out slowly that destination has not been reached. That disposition will be delayed.
I grew up believing that the trees were the tallest things on the planet. I, later, found out it was her. Her personality, like her defenses, could not be breached. Yet, her eyes were ever watchful. I would often think she couldn't be real. Now I have come to realize that she too obscure to be fiction and far too thick to ever disappear.
I often find myself trying to discover ways of escaping. There was a time when I thought of poisoning her drink. She consumes whiskey more often than air. I thought it a perfect mechanism for my liberation. Unfortunately, her clarity as a drunk could rival a prophet. Also, the poison was not a thing I could come by without the plot being uncovered.
Then there was the time I scavenged for something as sharp and piercing as her gaze. This fruitless search only got me beaten for wondering. It's like she could read my intention. Such insight into my motives is more than disturbing. It's cleansing.
Now, I stew in my hold. The morsels of food that are sent to me are often more grand then her villainy. They often have such rich flavor that the thought of finishing, angers my stomach. No, my quarrel is not with my surroundings. It's my inability to change them. I only want freedom. You can't be man like this. Canine thoughts are all I feel.
She will not falter, however. She will continue on like the desert and produce as much thirst. She'll burn for this. I may never produce that fire, but she'll definitely succumb to the flame.