A Prisoner to your own Home
You know if you’re a fly, you like faeces. If you’re a
bee, you like flowers.
You like what you like, and you’ll like it until you stop.
And some people just don’t know any better.
Let me pose this question to you: What is the
difference between a gated community and a ghetto? Both are under surveillance:
one by usage of cameras, the other, policed. Both have reserved geographical
areas: one, the suburban ring, the other, the inner city. Both are bound to
these areas, who enjoys it?
Hiding away for so long left me forgetful of the feeling of belonging. Now that I’ve re-entered the world and to be surrounded by so much positivity and light, I ask why I kept myself away for so long?
For those that don’t know me very well, I haven’t been,
or at least have been on and off social media for the past two years and I’ve
only just re-joined society, if you will, about a couple days ago, with this blog
actually.
I remember my cousin asking me if “I was on the run”
because I had turned on disappearing messages on WhatsApp, I still didn’t have
social media at the time and I just was avoiding people in general. And the
answer was, yes. I was playing hide and hide. With whom? I don’t know. Myself,
with everyone, people I knew and didn’t know. You’d see me one day and never
hear from me again and if you did, it was undercover.
I was so scared of being perceived. That's a joke in
my generation, Gen Z, but I seriously did not want anyone to have any thought
concerning me. I just wanted to hide in my room. Behind those closed four walls,
no one could get in (and I couldn’t get out). Isolated. On an island
(literally), and in my own world, but not in the good way.
My question today is do you think the flies know that
they’re gravitating towards someone’s excrement? They don’t know what they’re
looking for. They flock to anything really and truly. And bees only to that
which is sweet.
I was the fly in faeces in the confinement of my room. When I was in it, do you think I knew any better?
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