We’re trying so hard, most of us, to just get out from under the chokehold.

It’s a hard thing to look at.

It’s a hard thing to realize (that finality, that clink), the notion that your fate is sealed, more or less. However well-appointed your cage might be, however delightful 99.9% of the time, it is your captor.

It’s about the shrinking of choices. The narrowing, the paring down of your menu.

It’s about never quite feeling that you’ve arrived, and one day realizing that you’ve been departing for ages.

It’s impermanence, and the lack of sweet spot between “One day I will” and “Back then I used to.”

Then again, perhaps it’s simply a wake-up call. An alarm sounding for those who may hear it, to get up and live.

A reminder that our comforts are not the end goal. That there’s always another layer to strip back. Another kindness to be done. Another dragon to be slain.

Get up, it says. Get up and live. Get up.