Freedom. Yeah right. I'm free to do whatever I want as long as my parents say it's ok, which is hardly the case. If I want to chew on the lamp cord or the TV remote, that's my business. Who are they to tell me otherwise?
My name is Brandon. I was yanked into this world 6 and a half months ago. I spent 9 months and 5 days in my cozy sanctuary. I had everything I needed, and in there I was free. Nobody could tell me what to do, I played with whatever I wanted, slept whenever I wanted and ate whenever I wanted. That's freedom. But then one fateful day I was pulled from my home and not allowed to return. I tried to reason with these people but they wouldn't listen. Let the oppression begin.
It's taken me 6 months to build up enough strength in my arms and legs to attempt to escape, but these people are constantly watching me like lions stalking their prey. At every turn it seems as though I'm not allowed to touch anything or go anywhere. Often I'm imprisoned in a small area no bigger than a cubic meter with nothing to do and no one to talk to except my lifeless plush friend.
I'm trying very hard not to break, I can't let them see me weak, but it's hard. Things may be bleak now, but I've got to stay strong. I'm writing now because it's the only place I can share my thoughts, feelings and experiences, and maybe somebody out there can help me. I have a few tricks up my tiny sleeve yet, we'll see how they play out, but for now I'm just going to lay low.
No comments:
Post a Comment