A Creative Response to Belonging
Ryan’s Story – Untitled so far
You stay in your room like a locked away Rapunzel. Well not locked in fact – matter of the choice rather. It’s like fiery dragons attack you every time you attempt to escape your temple. You study, you work, study again, read some, then you study some more. It’s the same repetitive routine throughout your days between the same four egg-white walls.
‘No common sense!’ you are told. ‘None what-so-ever’, burns your delicate skin.
What are you supposed to do? Visit the Wizard of Oz and ask for a glass brain? Or maybe obsess with Thomas Paine for a week or two? No, only the flame throwers presented at the exit is awaiting your so called ‘enlightenment’ – and even the pain isn’t crossed knuckles with humiliation.
You feel trapped but simultaneously free – free from any such connection with the fire you have been accustomed to or rather such societal dictatorship controlling your every thought, presenting a more confused, liberated Rapunzel.
You are somewhat connected with surrounding people despite the closed door. An interconnected spider’s web comes to mind, perhaps behind a series of branches and scuffled leaves. Even though you are somewhat acquainted with these people, you can never seem physically ‘connected’ with them. Maybe it’s the closed door? Or maybe it’s the fact that you over-analyse everything until the point where self-disappointment slaps your red hard across the face.
All you want is to be alone, far from what these people think, but yet want to be a part of the envious spider’s web large enough for your contribution but possibly not strong enough. You think of a similar case of Emily Dickinson. She wants to post her letter, she wants to publish her poetry but in the end she doesn’t because of fear. Fear of what other people may think if it, ever so lonely in her secluding room. That similar closed door painful to think about, but comforting to realise collectively. What people think of you, it’s a scary thought
You stay in your room like a locked away Rapunzel. Well not locked in fact – matter of the choice rather. It’s like fiery dragons attack you every time you attempt to escape your temple. You study, you work, study again, read some, then you study some more. It’s the same repetitive routine throughout your days between the same four egg-white walls.
‘No common sense!’ you are told. ‘None what-so-ever’, burns your delicate skin.
What are you supposed to do? Visit the Wizard of Oz and ask for a glass brain? Or maybe obsess with Thomas Paine for a week or two? No, only the flame throwers presented at the exit is awaiting your so called ‘enlightenment’ – and even the pain isn’t crossed knuckles with humiliation.
You feel trapped but simultaneously free – free from any such connection with the fire you have been accustomed to or rather such societal dictatorship controlling your every thought, presenting a more confused, liberated Rapunzel.
You are somewhat connected with surrounding people despite the closed door. An interconnected spider’s web comes to mind, perhaps behind a series of branches and scuffled leaves. Even though you are somewhat acquainted with these people, you can never seem physically ‘connected’ with them. Maybe it’s the closed door? Or maybe it’s the fact that you over-analyse everything until the point where self-disappointment slaps your red hard across the face.
All you want is to be alone, far from what these people think, but yet want to be a part of the envious spider’s web large enough for your contribution but possibly not strong enough. You think of a similar case of Emily Dickinson. She wants to post her letter, she wants to publish her poetry but in the end she doesn’t because of fear. Fear of what other people may think if it, ever so lonely in her secluding room. That similar closed door painful to think about, but comforting to realise collectively. What people think of you, it’s a scary thought