The creative mind confined

I've been made dull, and made my world dull. The vision is soft, fuzzy, lacking clarity; and I keep it out of focus so that I might never fall in love with the details; abscond off with life in a split-second impulse.

I constantly test limits with authorities. Doing the bare minimum of homework; doing only the necessary chores; working only as much as is expected. Eventually, maybe, someone will clarify their expectations. And when they do I make a decision: will I benefit more from choosing my autonomy and creativity, or from obliging the authority? It's all calculated, never predictable in itself, and generally my authorities either have something I want or can exert unfavorable power over my life, which will factor in to the decision.

So most times I stay within the lines they've drawn me.

The authorities enjoy this. It generally makes them feel good; lets them relax, now that their words have weight. But in me, the individual ultimately longing for freedom (despite, frankly, being too cowardly to fully commit to its pursuit), a gravity well forms. The reality of having made a strong outward decision (“I will obey”) solidifies, and a foreign planetary system of behavior grows. My now ostensible actions stand in stark contrast with my internal desires, but somehow I'm less alienated with myself. I see life as it is, now that I've decided on something, instead of deciding every moment to not make a decision and maintain the status quo.

No. I've decided to accept a cage. I've decided to live in it peacefully. And the words and images and truths come easily now that I know where I've planted my feet.

I will continue to live in this cage. It is my home right now, and I'll be comfortable in it — at least for the moment. But on the day I decide to move, I'll make the decision knowing this cage. I'll know its every detail; its gaps and exits. I'll take the direct path to freedom. And in the meantime, I'll no longer steep in delusions of the walls around me.