1 Oct 2016
Walls.
Every step I take leads me to a wall. Walls of red, walls of white, walls of
blue. Walls made of stone in the dullest of browns and grays. I lose my balance
often, reaching for those sturdy walls, only to be met with their cold,
enclosing contempt. There is no support here. (I am alone) Walls of steel and chain keep me
from the outside world for which I so desperately yearn to be birthed back
into; thrust upon that daily monotony of every day 9-5 life. I yearn for it
deeper than the desert flower years for morning dew.
Locks.
Locked. Everything is locked. There are thousands of doors everywhere I go, but
not a single one to open. But would it even matter if they opened? Where would
they lead? Only to more walls and more locks. There are windows. Windows to see
into the outside world. But no. These are not windows. They are disguised as
windows. They are shaped like windows. They have sills and frames like windows,
but they are painted and covered and no light gets in or out; in or out. They cannot
open. No air gets in or out; in or out. If a thing looks like a thing, but it
does not work like that thing, can it still be called that thing? It looks like
a window but it does nothing a window does, so how can it be a window? How?
Step
by step I am led to the slaughter. No choices. No freedom. No liberty. No Constitution.
No Bill of Rights. How can they accuse me of not holding up my oath to protect
the Constitution when they themselves are denying me my Constitutional rights?
Excellence. Excellence in all we do. A farce. A lie. A mouthful of vinegar and
honey to lure in the feeble trainee bees. But none of them follow it. They strip you of your humanity, cram their ideals down your gullet, take away
your sanity when you break those ideals, and then stand back and laugh as they themselves break those same ideals
right in front of you. They think we're not watching when they do it; but they're
wrong for there is nothing else to do except watch. They are above the law and
above those ideals. And we are below.
And they treat us as such. I have forgotten what it feels like to feel equal.
To feel human. To feel like I'm free. Freedom. Never in my wildest dreams did I
ever imagine there would come a time in my life that I'd stop feeling American.
Yet, here I am. Here. I . Am.
