Manacles...

Trapped. In situations, I promised myself never to be in. In relationships, I had no say in. With people, I should always have stayed away from. In a love, I can't get out of.

Trapped, what if I am, in this perpetually dark and dingy space for the finite lifetime I've been gifted with. What if in time, I am too accustomed to the darkness to care about the light at its end.

Trapped are the words between my lips, slyly slipping in situations I lose myself in. But I don't think you catch them, I am afraid you never will.

Trapped, here in this moment with you.  I stare, at your golden skin, shining in the tunnel that now I've come to realize is actually beaming. I stare harder, hoping you can feel my eyes bleeding with love, waiting to be returned. So you stare, stare back at me. But I'm too afraid to see what awaits me. By the time I gather the courage to look at you, you've looked away. And I find myself in shackles again.

I can feel it tearing at me, gathering strength, despite my every attempt to dilute it with indifference. My eyes are drooping, failing and falling. I let them be since I've learned through experience that there are certain things you can see only behind closed lids. People your open eyes yearn to see. Feelings your skin alive, yearns to feel. And its thoughts like these that make the blood rush to my mind, keep me awake night after night.

Through all these disconnected thoughts and barely exciting days, through the sea- saw of emotions and spring and rain, once I make it,  I'll break these fetters of emotions and find my way to you.

Comfort is a state of being that constrains you from success.

Fear is engulfing me, tightening its grasp around my throat. Breathe, breathe. Harder, try harder. Stand straighter, taller. What are those words escaping my mouth? I feel my tongue rolling but I can't remember the words. The words I rehearsed over and over again. The words I filled every silence in my life with.

Gulp. That feels good, the water grazing my dry throat. Is anyone looking at me? Is my paranoia travelling to the other end of the room. Can they feel it? I don't want them to. My impatience is trickling in the form of sweat. I can feel it move down my arms. This is my best dress, one I bought ages ago for a different situation. 

I need to leave, I need a mirror. I need to stare at myself, the person I was and the person I'm about to become. I need to remind myself that it's okay. It's always been okay, unless I begin to over think. That's when it all goes downhill. 

But we've been designed that way. To think of the worst, set ourselves up for disappointment, so that we aren't surprised when it slaps us in the face. But when have I ever been prepared. I touch my cheek remembering my last loss.

Push not pull. But I can't think straight. Straight! Slouching is a sign of defeat, a feeling I'm not yet ready to embrace. I take my place. I'm sitting among people I've never seen but I'm sure are way above me. What am I doing here, this feels wrong. But I know if I leave I can never come back, never climb up.

The moment of truth, rather the moment of lie. Where's my mask? I need  my facade.
Is that a whisper? Can they see though? 
Stop. I don't want these moments captured, I don't want to remember it, atleast not like this. 
Eyes, 20 pairs of eyes, fixated on me. I've never liked attention and never despised it as much as right now. 
I nod, and continue. Positive wobbling of heads, I remember my English, the words I rehearsed rush to my head. 
Smiles, giggles. Wow, they understand my sarcasm.

I look down and thank out loud. I hear applause. I actually meant to thank my feet for staying still, but I didn't say that aloud. I feel exhilarated. 

I slowly walk back to a familiar place, my comfort zone welcoming me back. But I know I have to step out soon, if I ever wish to hear the applause, if I ever wish to feel the magic again.