This is my safe place. Since five years old, when I came to this Elementary school, I would take solace in this space. Before school, recess, after school; now a place in my mind I go to. It kept me safe from the wind and cold in winter. In summer, it burned my skin the way that I like, candle wax that I can feel on something other than my hand.

My thoughts race as I watch the kids play on the playground. I am other and feel I can never belong. Why do I want to belong? I think of my parents, aunts, uncles and their responsibilities. Til this day even when I have a lot of responsibility I feel no one thinks me worthy. I didn’t want what they had anyway. There is nothing I want to do other than live, experience all of the things possible to experience. As a child I can understand that money allows you to do that, that some have more than others. Why does that exist when we have all we need around us? What is value when we are only living?

These are questions I was too young to ask, and only asked myself. How does a five year old with no hope answer them? Throughout the rest of my life I go through the motions knowing that I am not meeting the milestones of the world. I just couldn’t understand the reason and felt I had already lost. I breathe in, the enclosed space of the cylinder allows me to feel comfort. Warmth, heat, fire, and safety; the only feelings I can put my finger on. Sadly, to this day I can put my finger on but still don’t understand.

It’s the end of the world. I have no job. I am not living in any place. My body is here, my soul is dead, and I wonder what freedom truly is. I start to scoot out of my cylinder, the sound of my chains echoing throughout. When I was five, I’m sure I pictured myself here, yet I never gave up, only talked about it. Is it time to throw it in?