I woke up full of myself, plans fun, personal projects. And then I remember where I am. But not right away.
First I imagined the cool things I would do in the day. The art stuff... maybe write the perfect curriculum, sell the old clothes. I will be free!
Maybe that message was that fucking sign I was waiting for. A chance for the inadequate. The hope to the prisoner praying to the Moon.
I listen to the voice in the Kitchen. The excitement becomes the despair. The heart racing. I don't have time, I have to get things right NOW
I need to go away from him I need to get away from here
Can I really save myself with my inadequate being, my inadequate art?
Breath!- the soul urges..." please, this is the despair, this is the hurt! The terror of being in this cycle of pain forever. It's fear talking. Your art is the sun. Don't put clouds in front of the sun. Don't put despair in front of your soul. Don't be a wall to yourself. Please They can't be a wall to you if you're not a wall to yourself. Let it shine!"
I cry again. I'm being the wall to myself, in a crazy and sad paradox. Every time I'm desperate to escape the wall they created around me, I create one myself.
I listen to the voice in the kitchen once more... But I refuse to be the wall. I get up and I say: I'll break the wall and fly away!