Do I ever wish I could go back?

For some brief, fleeting moments the memories of luxury, the lavish meals, my impossibly comfortable bed, the lack of wanting for anything…of course I would give anything to return home.

But then I can always count on reality to give my stupidly nostalgic memories a swift kick in the ass.

That place was nothing short of a prison. Sure, it was a well-furnished (although incredibly tacky) and cozy prison, but a prison nonetheless. Stand this way, wear this, don’t say that now! And all that unbearable socializing with equally obnoxious nobility. Then there was my “schooling”…I thought I would die of boredom. But at least my career there ended with quite a bang. It’s not as though my family even misses my presence, in fact I think they were almost relieved that I had given them grounds to eject me from their perfect little bubble of a world.

So to answer that question, no. I would never wish to return to that place, to those people, to that hollow world of smoke and mirrors. I do not claim to know where I belong in this world, but I know for a fact that it is anywhere but there. Now, I am as free as the wind itself, free to finally live my life on my own terms.

Oh and by the way, to those who believe these are the words of a spoiled, petulant child, I can only say this…you try living that life for a hundred years. It gets more than slightly old after the first fifty.


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