Prisoner

I reside on the highest point of a soaring tower, penetrating the heaven itself; so high in the sky that is frightened for me to look down. My home has no door; there is no way to enter or exit my world. A window however is the only opening I have to the outside world if such thing exists. I have dared to look down on occasions to witness a mesmerizing view of the abyss; thick clouds below and infinite sky above, that’s all there is.

I have no way of communicating with outside world if I want which I never desire to. I’ve lived in a solitary confinement as long as I have known myself yet I have no regrets, as I’m quite comfortable and all my needs are satisfied. I do not have any physical needs. I don’t eat or drink, I don’t even breathe although I perfectly comprehend these functions. I have no need of any kind, no desires, no ambitions and no curiosity to know why I exist the way I do. I don’t feel lonely so I don’t need companionship. How I came about? How did I end up here? How long I lived and how long I will are the existential questions of my life yet I have no burning desire to find answers to these fundamental questions.

My recent memories are insignificant and the long term recollections might be the figments of my imagination. My mere existence is utterly vague. Either I live in my own reverie or am transpired in someone’s dream. My ethereal presence must inevitably be temporary. The reality of my existence is mere reflection, a mirage of a sort. Either I wake up and realize I don’t really exist or someone will soon reach the same conclusion. This is bound to happen sooner or later.

On some rare occasions when I looked down the window; I felt the urge to explore the outside but why I pondered? Why should a rational man plunge into an infinite nothingness to quench a capricious whim? If I could envision any form of existence outside my virtual world worth exploration, I could persuade myself to commit such foolish act. I exist in a sublime state of serenity and my only discomfort is a vague curiosity? I chide myself for the itch I have to answer the question of why should I have such a question.

Recently I had this recurring nightmare. A woman jumped out of my window for no apparent reason. I raced to help her, but it was too late. She was already in midair on the verge of a free fall and I could only see her ankles and the soles of her feet. In a split second, her husband courageously stormed towards the window to save his wife, extended half his torso out the window frame and grabbed her both ankles in the air. The rescue mission failed and she pulled him down too. Well, my life is not by any means as dull and as uneventful as it may seem.

Once in a while, I see apparitions in my residence and I don’t bother to ask any questions of why and how from the harmless protagonists, the scenario is quite mundane. A person appears before me and calmly walks toward the window to plummet to her ultimate demise, or her eternal salvation. On several occasions, I unsuccessfully tried to convince them otherwise but why should I do that?

During these eerie encounters however and as they walk towards the window, I get acquainted with some of these people. A very few I liked and the rest I never cared for. The ones who seemed interesting though, are not much different than others. During the short few steps to the window, if they give me a headache by the monotonous tale of their lives, I distract my mind until they meet their fate.

I don’t consider myself to be a prisoner in true sense of the word. However, I have no other way to describe my existence. I have not chosen to be here and cannot leave if I wish unless I take the ultimate steps toward the window and to explore the unknown. The window is the mysterious yet lethal portal to knowledge. If I ever dare to know who I am, then I will cease to exit. Therefore, it’s safe to say, this comfortable life is my prison and this prison is all I have.