Biographical Non-Fiction posted April 16, 2014 |
brief essay on feeling trapped
Running Away
by dejohnsrld (Debbie)
Running Away
Sometimes life is just too hard. I feel trapped and too reliant on others. When too stressed, I dream of running away—not forever probably, but for a few days at least. In a way that sounds childish, but I need a break, a different chair in which to sit, and a different wall to observe.
What would I do? Writing in the peace and quiet of solitude sounds appealing. I could just hibernate with my thoughts, uninterrupted by the occurrences that happen at home, the leaky faucet, the senile cat, the phone, and someone’s TV or music always blaring, intrusions into my creative flow.
When I used to drive, there were times I just couldn’t go home. I would drive, dreaming of running away, really wanting to, but never actually doing so. The farthest I ever went was for a hike in the park. When I was worn out, I would return home.
Now, I need a vacation. Most people looking at my life would think I’m on a constant vacation since I no longer work, but it is not like that at all. When you stay home all of the time, staying home ceases to be a vacation.
Some days, it seems more like a life sentence. Prisoners under house arrest have more variety in their lives than I do. It is the same old thing day after day.
The monotony is getting to me. I think this time I really will do it. The longing for a different chair and a different wall is too strong to resist anymore. I will run away, not long and not far, but I need a change of scenery for a couple days at least…
Running Away
Sometimes life is just too hard. I feel trapped and too reliant on others. When too stressed, I dream of running away—not forever probably, but for a few days at least. In a way that sounds childish, but I need a break, a different chair in which to sit, and a different wall to observe.
What would I do? Writing in the peace and quiet of solitude sounds appealing. I could just hibernate with my thoughts, uninterrupted by the occurrences that happen at home, the leaky faucet, the senile cat, the phone, and someone’s TV or music always blaring, intrusions into my creative flow.
When I used to drive, there were times I just couldn’t go home. I would drive, dreaming of running away, really wanting to, but never actually doing so. The farthest I ever went was for a hike in the park. When I was worn out, I would return home.
Now, I need a vacation. Most people looking at my life would think I’m on a constant vacation since I no longer work, but it is not like that at all. When you stay home all of the time, staying home ceases to be a vacation.
Some days, it seems more like a life sentence. Prisoners under house arrest have more variety in their lives than I do. It is the same old thing day after day.
The monotony is getting to me. I think this time I really will do it. The longing for a different chair and a different wall is too strong to resist anymore. I will run away, not long and not far, but I need a change of scenery for a couple days at least…
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