A Haven for Book Lovers

I am just a girl who loves reading and talking about books

The Prisoner

I look down at my ankles. They are held firmly together in the tight metal shackles. My hands are handcuffed in front of me where I can see them. I look at them closely and feel the desperation start filling my heart as I think of my captivity. I am a prisoner. I cannot go anywhere. I am stuck in this cold dark room. My ears fill with tears and I sit back feeling defeated wallowing in my own misery.


I miss the sun. I want to feel its warmth on my skin. I would like to wear my sundress and dance around in the open fields on a sunny afternoon. I would like to lift my hands to the skies as I take in the warmth of the sun. However, how can I do this with my hands and feet tied? How can I do this while I am still stuck in this room?


I want to travel and see the world. I want to see people smiling; I want to hear children laughing. I want to see it all. How can I do this at all? The room where I am stuck in does not even have a window. I am in a prison, four walls closing in on me. This is the hand that life had dealt me with. I am stuck in this room.


This prison is not very bad though. I have a bed to sleep on and three meals a day. I am also safe. There are many risks out there in the world. In this prison, I am safe. I never have to go hungry. This is not something that everyone can say. I could get used to these four walls here. My only problem is that I know there is a world outside these walls, a world where I could possibly be happier. However, I am scared of this other world. Scared that it may not be all that I imagine it would be. I am scared that my safety will be gone once I venture into this world.


There are many times when I am happy in my prison. I find contentment in staying behind the four walls. I find happiness in my thoughts where I keep thinking about my freedom. I keep thinking about the world outside the walls. Lost in my own thoughts, I find solitude. I imagine myself walking under the clear skies, smiling, dancing and laughing. I imagine myself without the shackles on my ankles and the cuffs around my wrists. I dream of this other world and this gives me the strength to stay in my prison. I am just here physically but my mind is free.


I look down at my ankles, and for the first time, I actually see them or rather; I don’t see them. It’s the shackles, they are not there. I stay still and think about the meaning behind the missing shackles. Could it be that my shackles were an illusion. Could it be that my dreams is the reality and my prison was imagined? I reach down and touch my free feet. That is when I realize that I am actually free. The handcuffs aren’t there. I could lift up my hands if I wanted to. I looked at the four walls and for the first time, I notice the door. It swings wide open immediately. I can actually walk out.


I sit back and for a minute, I think about walking out of this room. There is nothing holding me back apart from my imagined shackles and handcuffs. I slowly get up and purposefully walk towards the door. Without looking outside, I bang the door shut and go back to my corner. I am scared of what the outside world could offer me. I am scared that it may not quite be all that I imagine it to be. I would rather go back into the prison that I built for myself. I would rather go back to the shackles and handcuffs.


One day I will walk out of this prison. That day is not today. Today, I continue dreaming and thinking about what it would be like, to actually be part of the world that I truly long for.


This is for everyone afraid of following their dreams.


2 comments on “The Prisoner

  1. jwango
    May 30, 2013

    Did you read from my heart my dear? If you are a guesser, it cannot be any better than this…

  2. dianagitau
    May 30, 2013

    Wango, i am glad that you related to this piece, seems like we are both serving imaginary prison terms 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on September 24, 2012 by in Uncategorized.
%d bloggers like this: