40.

 July 7, 2022

freedom? 

I’m starting to wonder if they want me around anymore 

Is this a tactic to get me alone and hold myself accountable? 

The problem is that is something I know I won’t do. 

Why? 

Because every single little thing I do in my house needs to have a reasonable explanation. 

That’s what it’s like to live in an overbearing household. 

No freedom. 

I need excuses to go out. 

I need a reason to do anything that isn’t staying quiet in my room and doing nothing all day.

I know that even trying to work out on my own will pose the annoying question; 

“What are you doing?” 

She asks that every fucking day it seems, 

With that annoying fucking face that she always has, 

As if seeing me not being a lazy bum is a miracle of god. 

You ever feel like your trapped in a box, 

With no air left to breathe? 

Well I’ve been trapped in that box for more than five years already. 

The air ran out a long, long time ago.

The gasps of oxygen have turned to shallow breaths.

There is nothing left to hold onto. 

Slipping into the darkness is no longer just about depression or anxiety, 

It’s about overbearing and zero freedoms. 

It feels like slaves in the 1800s had more freedom than I do.

They at least were let out of the house to work in the fields.

I’m not allowed out unless it’s under supervision. 

I crave for the days when I can be home alone, 

For when I can go to the store or down the avenue, 

For those days when the box I’m forced in is cracked open. 

On those days, some air can finally be let in, 

But those days are few and far between. 

The closest thing I can get to freedom is working at a job I hate, 

With mostly people I despise. 

How can anyone call that freedom? 

How can you call any part of my life freedom? 

I’m trapped, 

Gasping for air that is no longer there, 

With nothing left to feel, 

And only the stale darkness as my company.