« on: November 26, 2013, 08:50:08 am »
Fuck you, kid. You think we haven't heard this all before? You think you're the first fresh face running hands along the bars dribbling exclamations of surprise and wonder and hope turning to the stone walls, eyes wide, asking "what if?"
Fuck you, kid. You think you're the first one, not supposed to be here, destined for something more, smuggling a spoon into the cell and gradually chipping away at the walls, lounging about in the common space droning on about "when I'm free" and "life on the outside" oblivious to eye rolling and bitter, knowing smirks.
Fuck you. You want freedom? From what? From solid points of reference? From stability and structure? You're welcome to it, champ, but leave the rest of us out of it. You know what's outside of this prison? A blinding fucking search light, dazing you and inducing an immediate and irreversible headache. And then the dogs start barking, from every direction. You don't know close they are but you can feel them on your heels. How long have you been running? Gunfire. Screaming. Barking, always barking. The sirens rise from the silence you'll never know again.
But wait, you say, stretching the metaphor even further. What happens if you make it through all of that? Well, bucko...
Fuck you. That's what. You wind up crashing back into your cell and you spend a week or two, curled up on the floor, crying and trying to remember who you are, kissing the stone, running your hands along the bars, YOUR bars, and feeling an overwhelming gratefulness for your cell and everything in it.
So yeah, fuck you. Go ahead and fuck right off if you that's what you want. Or you can pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable and make your damn time.