It wasn’t a literal prison I found myself in, or else I wouldn’t be yapping about it. Why would I ever confess to running away from a real prison? They’d trace it right back to me and lock me up–all with a clean and cocky confession, too. No, that’d be too stupid of me. If I ran away from a real prison, I wouldn’t peep a single squeak about it. I’d be the quiet mouse hiding in my hole.
But a figurative prison? A metaphorical one? Oh, let my words become a river! I’ve too many things to say about that. I’ll be the rooster crowing, “Freedom! My infinite sun!” Every minute’s dawn in my heart. Let the silent mouse have his squalid hole.
I ran, I ran, I ran. I got out as fast as I could. I didn’t care about the repercussions. I didn’t care about contracts or getting sued. Because I thought to myself, “Once you’re out, you’re out. Your freedom might only last a week or two before they find you again and try to ruin your life. But what can’t you do in a week or two? What wonderful things can’t you enjoy?”
More than anything, I thought I’d get my testament out there. It would be the culmination of all my years–the one document to make me live forever.
Because before this, I didn’t have any time to write anything down. Twelve hours of work everyday: that’s why I ran. I didn’t care that I wouldn’t be able to pay the bills. I didn’t care that I wouldn’t have any food. I took off.
And now I find myself here. My week or two of freedom.
Well what the hell am I to do with it? Whenever I try to write my Grand Testament, nothing starts. Not even the very first utterance. Right now, the document just reads, “Groan.”
Perhaps I’m making a mistake by thinking this thing has to be written. Perhaps all I’m really after is just an afternoon of soaking up the sun. Yes, one summer day of taking in the beach. Yes, yes, an evening spent watching the stars dip into the ocean. An entire night to myself with the moon. There’d be sand on my back and it’d feel like the shore of the world was acting as my pillow. Ah.
Is that it, then? I’ve given my life away to fulfill my dreams of idleness? No Grand Testament? Just a nice little sleep? Sigh.
Oh, but I mustn’t depress myself about it. Because what life did I have before? Really? What life? Was it even a life? Or is this the first time I’m actually living?
A day to myself…! That’s enough of a motive to fight. Certainly enough of a motive to fly.
And who knows! They might never catch me!
And who knows! I might be the one who flees from time. Yes, I might be the only one who’s ever escaped. I might be the only one who lives forever. And all because I had the audacity to run.
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