'A Creative Response to Belonging\r'

'Ryan’s flooring †Untitled so far You full stop in your room like a locked away Rapunzel. Well non locked in fact †matter of the choice quite a. It’s like fiery dragons attack you every time you campaign to escape your temple. You find let out, you work, study again, read approximately, then you study some more. It’s the aforesaid(prenominal) repetitive second throughout your days between the same four egg-white walls. ‘No common smell! ’ you are told. ‘None what-so-ever’, burns your pure skin. What are you supposed to do? tittle-tattle the Wizard of Oz and ask for a wish-wash reason?\r\nOr whitethornbe obsess with Thomas Paine for a week or two? No, only the flame throwers presented at the exit is awaiting your so called ‘enlightenment’ †and charge the pain isn’t crossed knucks with humiliation. You feel trapped but simultaneously free †free from any much(prenominal) connection with the fire you concord been wonted(a) to or rather such societal dictatorship controlling your every thought, presenting a more confused, liberated Rapunzel. You are approximately connected with surrounding volume contempt the closed limen.\r\nAn interconnected spider’s web comes to mind, perhaps behind a series of branches and scuffled leaves. Even though you are more or less acquainted with these people, you git never seem physically ‘connected’ with them. perchance it’s the closed door? Or maybe it’s the fact that you over-analyse everything until the efflorescence where self-disappointment slaps your red hard across the buttock. in all you want is to be alone, far from what these people think, but yet want to be a part of the envious spider’s web large comme il faut for your contribution but possibly not strong enough.\r\nYou think of a resembling case of Emily Dickinson. She wants to post her letter, she wants to publis h her meter but in the end she doesn’t because of worry. Fear of what other people may think if it, ever so lonesome in her secluding room. That similar closed door painful to think about, but console to realise collectively. What people think of you, it’s a scary thought genuinely. What thoughts pass around around in other’s brains, without your control or prejudice. You look foreign your window, rather similar to the day before.\r\nA sky filled with cloud secluding the solarize’s precious touch. The lime steer half dying, half growing in the midst of an insect infested environment. The green rotter connected to the thin line of stalk, reaches higher(prenominal) to the sky then your window does, awkwardly enough. You refrain from such a moving-picture show and reach back into one of your books awaiting another(prenominal) life far from here †rather to the City of Invention you are strange about. If ever you yourself were to write a novel , miserable story, poem, script or anything of the sort †it would be one of such power and profit.\r\nThe rival would be a devilish character, somewhat misunderstood in more slipway than one Then maybe your dragons could throw away spot for fame †a Rocky nuisance show without the offense……. wait, maybe with the horror as well. The devilish character’s name would be Thomothius, Thom for short. He would attempt to escape the cannibalistic village he was forced to inhabit. A woman, always look up to by Thom would stop him in his tracks and allure him underground. There she would drill question upon response into Thom’s poor glass brain until Thom were to surface again as a farfetched Steven King character.\r\nFrom this point in time, villagers notice this strange happening and fear for their lives. (Cannibals fearing their lives, who could imagine? ) The King and Queen Dragonheart would perceive their power upon the false notions of their p eople and give ear poor Thom for the villagers to see like the musty and grass infested socks pegged to the clothes line in the corner of your window. This of course will fabricate peace and prosperous tranquillity to cuckold around the various blood-stained streets, never really understanding what evil was present. Not really profitable when rethought about.\r\nHere you fall out of this novel and back into the soundless pages you hold. Your silent tear will continue to derail like condensation, above all morals and belief that confide in your pride. From this, what is mandatory to be understood? It is that you will not find your Mr Darcy stuck between the space between your window and your room. It is that you will not have a happy ending unless you face your demons, or in this case dragons. stock-still you remain silent in your room, opinion of how this Thom could be the only person you can really connect with.\r\n'