Untamed

A flurry of thoughts have been twirling in my head for a while, more intensely than usual.

And suddenly it dawned on me - finally. At long last.

I am untamed.

I was never tamed by society, no matter how hard the latter tried. Do you have any idea how liberating this simple word feels? Something within me, most likely my own mind, never allowed the process to complete itself. I went through all the stages that ought to have tamed me and turned me into a nice little drone, but then something snapped and I fought the process back.

Isn't it always supposed to hurt like hell when one begins to reject, one by one, everything that was taken for granted, imposed as truth by a majority that never even understood the point of living in the first place?

I was sitting in the press office of my university, having to endure the most brain-numbing tasks and feeling as though I was going to scream. Everyone around me held their head down, staring at a computer screen whilst typing endlessly. Some were picking up the phone, putting on their loveliest voice to speak to some stranger, others kept filing things in place... None of them seemed to be in pain. They were doing their job. They seemed completely at ease with the most boring tasks, and if they ever questioned the randomness of their job, and its lack of true purpose, they probably dismissed it a long time ago. Maybe they still whinge from time to time, but that's nothing a pint of beer or a few cuddles, or a good show on TV can't erase.

I don't know how or when, but suddenly I was out the door, almost running outside the building just so I could breathe again. I sat on a wooden bench and pictured those office workers in my head as I had watched them earlier... And I wondered how come I couldn't even stand the idea of becoming like them - used to working so pointlessly just because that is the way 'it is supposed to be'. How did they do it? How did they manage not to blow their brains out and actually go through the most pointless motions that only gave them a poor illusion of having lived? Doing exactly as society dictates one should be leading their life even if the price to pay is inner death.

And then it hit me like a brick in the face: they had been tamed, that's why they could stand it. Tamed and trained as fancy monkey could be.

And I hadn't.

I'm not. This means... I'm already free. They can never take what I retrieved from them at the last minute: my mind.