The Doll’s House

I often find my cats perched on the windowsill pressing their noses against the glass and looking either wild-eyed and bushy-tailed at the birds, or downright dysphoric.

They want outside. They want outside! THEY WANT OUTSIDE!

They can’t go outside. They’ve been house-spoiled. Nature is no longer natural, and they haven’t enough sense not to become road kill and are far too persnickety to eat anything off the ground or from a garbage can. Not that I want them to.

But I know how they feel. Like Tantalus, they long to touch something that is just beyond their reach. It’s the way I feel about my life. The person that I am looks through the window at the person that I could be and finds she is not content with I am. There is always the dream of the could be, and I am forever looking at her through the window.

I want outside.

I can’t go outside.

"The price of getting what you want, is getting what once you wanted."
~ Dream, from The Sandman