Trapped

Trapped, inside an ever changing, constantly revolving, paradigm we call life. This….enigma of a distorted reality. It is said we are the directors of our own destiny and that life is by the individual. But am I the controller of my life really? Are the written words, these faces, these delegates…are they not the directors of my life? Am I living my life or their life? In an entanglement of ideologies grasping me. Pulling, in every direction, suffocating me of the mere truth. For it is their truth, their life, and I am controlled. I am not me, I am them and if I so choose to oppress them and be me, I am no longer them and therefore I am not living a life, their life. I can see my disappearance now. This underlying shadow reaching to me, just as tall as me if not higher, right in front of my face. It tells me to escape but alas I cannot and it becomes the only line that separates me from them.

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