untitled.

I see myself sitting up on that high horse; a combination of restraint, class, power and success define me. I am the splitting image of the sincerely well-behaved, disciplined child I once was. The annoying little goody-two-shoes girl who never failed to be teacher's pet. I still see that image reflected in the glimmer of my father's eyes; the image of his pride and joy; his hopes and dreams. But that little girl I see is a stranger to me now. Like a far away image; her figure and features are blurred and unrecognizable. She all of a sudden ceased to exist one day. She vanished by her fears; constrained by such a profound loneliness and despair... For a weight the size of a piano rested; immovably, upon her shoulders. The kind she remembered seeing in cartoons like The Looney Toons when that same piano would fall right on top of a cartoon character; squishing them into an 'accordion-like' position - intending to be funny. To make children like her laugh. Except that she never found that funny at all. It seemed cruel and unnecessary. On top of everything, I suppose it felt too familiar to her. This weight on her shoulders... this identity of hers she had not wanted or created that she was indeed going to be this wonderful person; capable of vast successes, and only suited for this wonderful future that she herself did not envision. She was pretending for her father's sake and of course to keep her mother happy... she was devouring the appraisal she undoubtedly received. She was alone in the world but she pretended nonetheless. Her life was perfect, it seemed. She had her immaculate parents and academic achievements... but these things just overwhelmed her. She was overcome by this savage hurricane of loneliness which would intrude upon her life. She worried and feared because she knew...she just knew, and she wanted to disappear and be free like the chilly waves of a river whose open defiance - in moving about recklessly without a care in the world - fascinated her. She wanted to be free; she wanted the weight of the piano to be lifted off her delicate young shoulders - for she had not been a cartoon character and surely she wasn't capable of assuming an accordion-like position.

The taste of freedom is refreshingly tangy at first but then becomes bitter and rusty - like iron. It tastes like blood; like succumbing to death with your unwillingness to live. Poison. But, I am afraid nothing can shake away this bird in my heart that cannot allow itself to be caged for the life of it! I'm a nerd - not the type you secretly admired for having the courage to reveal their intelligence and actually raise their hand in class despite what ruthless kids would say - but the kind that has a perpetual 'kick me' sign on her back. I can't win. Freedom leaves me hopeless; responsibility overwhelms me! I feel like I haven't got much time to waste now. I see this vision before me; doors slamming shut right before my face, the thrust is so wildly fierce that the wind from the movement shakes me completely. Though the doors never touch me, I always feel this deep penetrating pain at the tip of my nose and find it rather difficult to open my eyes without crying.

Either I succeed now or wither away... That's how I see it.