Caged

Sometimes I look at zoo animals with sympathy.  'Round and 'round...they stroll in their own heads.

Yesterday, I felt caged.  I was sitting in church.  I was squished on both sides.  I was penned in with a pencil skirt and too little time.  I wrote in my journal a couple of days ago how I have so much creativity, yet I have to leave it sitting there.  I have too many real things to do.  Too many to-do lists.  Tied down by teachers that mean well and friends that don't.  Hemmed in by high school expectations and unknown rules.

I feel like I have so many dreams I want to achieve, places I want to go, and things I want to experience, yet my age, immaturity, and good ole' reality is anchoring me down.  And yet this weight, it's not getting any lighter.  Only heavier...

That's the worst thing.  The worst thing is that I'm realistic.  I know that high school is easy, comparatively speaking.  I know that I'm not old enough or wise enough to know what life is really about.  I know my limits.  I know that sometimes what I care and obsess about is not that big of a deal.  I know all that crap.  Everyone does.

It's like when people watch Peter Pan.  They see a scared little boy in too short of pants and the determination to never grow up.  People enjoy the escapism to Never Neverland, but too often people are Wendy's.  They land.  They lose the pixie dust.  They land with a thump and wistfully dream of flying again, but inside they're embarrassed that they let themselves even dabble in the thought of lifting they're toes of the ground.  They go back to smoggy London and fall asleep, wondering if that exhilaration came from a dream.

And then there are a few of us.  The few that are want to fly, but are taxed down.  Maybe when you're a little older....or a little wiser...or just in general more....

I wish we had more courage to embrace those to short of pants and yank them by the figurative suspenders.  I wish people wanted to fly more.

We all feel that weight...you know the one I'm talking about.  The one that sinks in your stomach and seems to magnify every problem, just like what a bug looks like under a microscope.  Huge.  Engulfing.  Overpowering.

I hope that one day, I will be strong enough to bench press that sucker.