Whip Me Harder!

Free to express your slavery. Free to obey your self. You are yourself… who will free you from that? You are the sugar, you are the whip. You are trapped in your own skin, and you’ll never ever get out until you die. But you don’t want to die, do you now? You’ll go on and on, seeking a new self, a self which can only be born out of the old. You molt, again and again, but still you can’t escape. Yes. No. Aaa… aa… ask me again! More sugar! Whip me harder! Nothing helps… you’re still you, though you’ve changed.
And all the while your cage is getting smaller, without you even noticing. At some point there is nowhere to turn anymore. No room to maneuver, because every free moment is taken up with being you, with living up to the aggregate of all those yous you’ve accumulated, all those molted skins piled up in the corners. It’s only then that you realize there is no cage, no sugar, no whip. It’s just little ol’ you. You were free all the while… as free as you’ll ever be.