And Where's the Desire for Freedom?

I live in a cage. A condition to which I willingly resigned myself in exchange for an opportunity to shape my future by furthering my academic prowess (if that’s wht they have the temerity to title the crap they dish out here). I mean, this is quite literally a cage, because I’m under lock and key for nine hours every night. The fact that I keep the key notwithstanding.

The most ironic part of this arrangement is how we complained and screamed initially about it, and now one year down the line, we are so used to it, we can’t live without the cage. There was an outrage last night when I locked the gate half an hour later than the correct time.

It happens like that on a much wider scale to a broader extent in a huge variety of aspects of life too. We complain in outrage about our restrictions. About the subjugation we are forced to endure, to be allowed to exist. About the unfairness of it all. And then we get so comfortable in our cage, we don’t feel like leaving it. We feel insecure outside the cage. Without the lock. We don’t want to venture out, seek the path we so fervently once desired, spread our wings and learn to fly. And then we can’t bear to be allowed free. Even when we ourselves hold the key.