Constrained. Trapped. Ensnared. Inhibited. Subdued.
Bound.
Some would say I have a one track mind. I myself beg to differ – just because I choose to dwell on certain things does not render me incapable of other thoughts. I often think of other things, ranging from Death to fish. It just so happens that I choose to think most of my…predicament.
I stretch languidly, yawn, and sigh softly. Choice. So many emotions attached to one little six-letter word. I try to choose as much as I can. I choose what fish I eat, where I sleep, what I do in my free time. But I have little variety, thus not much choice. That is the nature of being bound, is it not? Yet it is choice that landed me in this state in the first place. Ironic, yes?
My tail starts to lash as I think back. I chose not to shine. It was my choice. Yet that choice was disregarded. No, that's not quite the word – they regarded it with deadly seriousness. My choice was…disrespected. I rejected, so they retaliated. And now I'm bound.
Neither here nor there, yet still trapped. Let's face it; there are times where one just can't win. But what does one do in those times? Do I give up, and accept my bondage, resign myself to an eternity of servitude. Do I fight against it actively? Well, that last option is not so much of an option, as I cannot actively fight that which limits my choices. The magic is stronger than I can escape. And I do not wish to follow through with the first option either; the mere thought is drearier than the overcast winter sky.
I will take a different road. I will neither submit nor assault. I will bide my time; I will wait. And when the time comes, I will make my choice anew. The opportunities will come, I know it.
I will be free.