Thursday 17 January 2019


My old acquaintance, a woman ten years older than me, confessed once that she feels caged. And this statement wouldn't be so appalling if she wouldn't say that about her marriage. She and her husband had taken a mortgage for their big house and the estimated time of repayment was forty years. Well, she was forty back then so she knew that this is a very long time. She said that, after signing the agreement with a bank, she felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing her throat (I know the feeling). They took this loan together and she had an impression that it was binding them more than the wedlock did. 

I cannot stop thinking about this woman and her confession though it was over ten years ago. She married the man she supposedly loved... Supposedly. 

I mention her today, for I feel exactly the same way - caged. Because I must work with people. With people - in certain circumstances. There are the days, like today, when my cage is even tighter and smaller. I'm suffocating. I cannot breathe. And I don't have hope.

I could ask my friend why she married this guy in the first place but it would be pointless. I know why she did it. Just as I know why I work with people albeit I shouldn't.  

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