ChainSometimes, I look at the birds. For some reason, they have always fascinated me. I watch as they weave in between one another. I listen to their squawking, anxious cries.
Most of the time, they don't have much to worry about. They eat, they sleep, they take off to new lands. Their brains are free of stress. Their memories aren't sharp like ours. They can do whatever they want to do.
Ever since I was little, I've been trying to do the same. Unlike the birds, however, I'll never be free. Sure, I can roam around until midnight, disappear into the next town, or fly straight up into the clouds, but I'll always be back. There's a shackle on my ankle that prevents me from going too far. It may be imaginary, but it's still very much real.
The chain is unbreakable, but its length is always adjusting. Every once in a while, the metal links are loose enough to let me run away, so I run, shedding black feathers in my wake. I keep hoping that one day, I will run far enough to rid myself of the chai