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The cage - TB citizenship reward

Muratus del Mur

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"Sometimes i feel my body as a cage.. if i try to escape, it hurts, my eyes, my mouth, my ears, act like metal contours that cut deep and painful. If i try to hide deeper inside this cage, i lose sight of light and get lost in a world i fear dreadfully. Sometimes when i just sit at the cage's window and look outside, i realize that i'm watching through the eye windows of someone else...
..no, i didnt smoke/drink/shoot anything, this is my nightmare i had since i remember myself. 
why am i sharing this here? because sometimes i need to shout
you're answer should not exceed the above text. There are no guidelines to what the question is or what you should do, write, comment, etc.
Pick your question and pick your answer. 
whoever will trigger my attention will get a reply and a second clue.
Shock me.
I will reward the person that triggers my attention the most with tribunal citizenship
asskissing will disqualify you
questions will be ignored as part of this provocation but might be answered.
private pms will disqualify you
Edited by Muratus del Mur
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Your essence is being chewed on by fear of the possibility control might be an illusion. A part of you knows it is so, and thus seeks cover, while the other part dismisses the thought and gets (edit: you) maimed through any attempt to prove it otherwise.

Edited by Myth
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I'd say something like wearing a mask.

From the given text, it looks as if you're not showing your real self (due to fear? I am unsure what kind of fear, but that's the feeling I get). While your real self is hiding behind a hardened mask (cage, metal contours that cut), the mask seems to be causing more harm than good. I will not extend this for now - this can refer to more specific things, like hiding particular parts of yourself (I.E a more emotional part while trying to look hard and strong on the outside). I will elaborate if it is deemed that I should.

Acceptance? Fear? Fear of not being accepted for who you truly are?

That's what I can come up with off the top of my head.


Alternatively, if I am to think of this as a nightmare only and if I am allowed to extrapolate quite a bit (I.E. might go waaaaaay off topic) this looks like fear of being pushed towards something you do not want by someone from the outside. The feeling of being influenced and pressured to the point where you cannot act outside that influence at all (thus the cage and struggle to escape).

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"I didn't remember, until I dreamt of my death by a heart attack.
As darkness took away everything,
all that was left was my consciousness.
And a memory of a child wanting to break free.
One day, during my childhood, 
I was at school, during the break, 
sitting in the yard, thinking.
In my train of thought, I starting noticing things.
I noticed I was thinking, 
I noticed I have been doing that during the whole break.
I noticed that most of my free time was spent thinking.
I noticed that there was a blurry line between "me",
whoever that was,
and my mind and it's thoughts. 
I noticed I could be aware of what I was thinking,
but also that I could think without being aware of it, until I was.
I noticed that there was a blurry line between "me",
whoever that was,
and my body and it's senses.
I noticed I could be aware of what I was sensing,
but also that I could sense without being aware of it, until I was.
I noticed that awareness, and asked myself if I was that awareness.
I noticed I had a body, but I was not the body, as it contained me
I noticed I had a mind, but I was not the mind, as it contained me.
I thought that the only way to know what I was, 
was by emancipating myself from both my mind and body.
And, being the child I was, I didn't have very clever ideas, did I?
Suddenly I felt claustrophobic. 
I was a thing, there was a "me", but I couldn't know what "me" meant, 
since it was drown in the information I received from my surroundings and from my own thoughts.
I felt the urge to understand what I was.
And, being the child I was, I didn't have very clever ideas, did I?
So I looked for a wall, and starting hitting my head against it.
As strong as I could.
If I could break my body, I could break my mind, and I could isolate that "me" from the rest,
And then understand it, right?
Blood started dripping, and I was still hitting my head against the wall.
As strong as I could.
I noticed I could only think and feel less and less.
And it was glorious.
So, being the kid I was, 
I wanted to hit my head harder, 
and in one final blow against the wall,
darkness took my body and my mind.
The last thing I felt, was the shift of gravity as I fell to the floor.
Finally, I was free from them. 
I could think of nothing, 
I could feel nothing.
But I was still there.
There was still a "me",
and nothing else.
I noticed that "me" meant nothing.
I was aware of my self,
but there was nothing else, only a hollow consciousness.
I spent an eternity with immaculate awareness, being aware that I was aware of my self,
but with nothing else to be aware of."
Have you ever tried meditating?
I found it's a good way to get rid of both thoughts and senses.

Second entry:
If clarity is sought after, the senses become a burden: images are seen in the dark, the body makes itself heard in the silence. 
If reflection is sought after, it's easy to get lost in the depths of the mind or to drown in the river of thoughts.
Something stops feeling genuine, and it seems hard to know what that is.
Through the void the self is killed and found anew. No senses. No thoughts. Only consciousness.
Edited by Koshu Farsight
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Thats the cry of our own Farts.
HOoo YeSS Fart do have their own soul trapped within the human bowels as a cage, it has this constant strive to escape. But selfish humans in order to keep their social status they don't allow their own Farts to be escaped with a blast and fragrance. Instead they r freed in silent mode which is much against their nature, their dreams and their purpose of their fartinity. Hope their nightmare ends and let there be a day when the fart shall earn their honor and freedom with a boom blast and natural odor.
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First time this happens when you realize that the life you live is not over once you die. This is merely one of the countless endless mirrorreflections. The fact is - you are awesomely happy when the realization comes to you and you feel releaved. But the next moment...you find with astonishement that you still have to live THIS life...live it, in spite that you know that there's so much more. And you crave to get more, to test so many things that you feel are true, but there is no way to test, unless you are finally free off your bounds.


The death...most of them fear it, but what if the death is actually a liberation, a new beginning...or maybe not. This little MAYBE at the back of your brain is an exciting and fascinating but at the same time scary. What if...

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In service, shared, I reflect my self-worth.  In Social crowds, I shine.   But hidden alone in my apartment's couch, I'd slowly lose my mind. 

The good in others, easily glimpsed, myself I see it too, but it's much brighter outside these innermost eyes, which are coloured a saddening blue.

My shoes have been given, when blisters were felt, and others needed walking more soundly.

My cooking's not perfect, some burning was smelt, but such things make my happy, profoundly.

But standing alone, is the thing that I fear, and why last year you all not found me here.


This is Maebius.   This is me.

in a nut-case shell.


The cage is one I instinctively to look into, and hear the birds singing...  or something.  :)


(edit:  I do not post this for proper TB citizenship... I think...  but the question and opportunity struck a cord that NEEDED this reply today.  so it's posted.)

Edited by Maebius
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Trapped within this cage I am a lone. It is through the painful sensations that I learn what it means to live within this cage. The light shining from the outside is blinding and I find comfort within the dark depths of this world. This cage is not meant to confine me but keep something out. To keep something from tainting my world.
I do what I need to take of it.
Only a whisper ever escapes my lips but that is all that needs to be heard.

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Your true self lays trapped within the flesh unseen by all those around you. The pain of the imprisonment is out of fear and maybe even what is expected of you. Every part of your soul screams in protest causing pain to flow through your body, the risk is too high for a chance. Yet if one person could understand you, accept you, help you break free, the pain would be worth it. Yet the chances are high that they would simply turn away leaving you alone miserable screaming in pain as your dragged back inside your own mind's prison.


In the end it comes down to Trust.



note: I found this to be most interesting and I hope more people answer.

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"I don't feel my body like a cage. I can do all sorts of weird things with it that seem impossible to most. When I'm out there, I don't merely play a character in a story. I try to bring a person to life; I think like them and act like them. Sometimes, I'm so close to them that I feel it's them that get the applause in the end.

But after the curtain falls and the lights go off, when all that's left is sweat, pain and two knees that can hardly keep me up, I don't dare look in the mirror of my dressing room. I no longer recognise the face reflected there as my own, after the make-up is gone and "they" fade along. I find it rather scary-looking, like a terrifying abomination that has emerged from my worst nightmares.

I feel safe when I hide behind "them". "They" are my shield... and my cage...

There are times, however, when I wish I could break free..."



Note: I don't seek Tribunal citizenship but, like Maebius, I felt this topic triggered something inside that sort of required a response from my part.

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I am not meant to be solitary, but sometimes it is easier to be that way. I know I must face the pain of transcending my cage to see and discover those others that are trying to do the same and communicate with them. The cage is not me but partly created by me, isolation is not me but enforced by me.. both used as a defence. My self is in my shared visions of others and that which is passed between us while adding my voice to theirs, that is me... my true escape.


In short. It is imperative to always be yourself in some way, no matter how painful it is for you, lest one day you wake up and your self is lost.

(I already have citizenship, I respond because the question was interesting. Perhaps a little simplistic, but it is based on some things I have experienced both in MD and the other realm.)

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Scratching lines and shrieking chalk on blackboards, that's mainly what the input feed gives me. Is it broken?
I feel like I play a game with a faulty tool.
A hammer to paint a picture.
At my best, I'm the blue flame, forging etheric mass in to the sea and forcing the wetness to yield, forcing fences to intertwine until chalk words are soundlessly transcribed by warm glow.
At my best I build worlds and bridges.
At my worst, I'm balled in a corner, banging pans against my head & each other to shut out the noise, which only grows louder to silence my protest. Drains the gas tank.
At my worst I yield and knock in nails, or heads.
When I wake up, with hair and blood on my hands, lighting that torch feels like infection.
(Happy with established housings, just an interesting thread to be part of)
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perhaps the only time you really feel like yourself is when you are isolated in your own mind and whenever you try to interact with the outside world it feels like it is trying to invade you "personal space" (both physicaly and mentaly) and that every interaction will somehow alter your core (essence of being). Thats why your eyes and ears are like a cage, the sensations you feel through them make you feel like the "you" in that moment is not your true natural self but instead some altered perception of yourself. The darkness of being isolated in your own mind is something i can understand very well but can't find any good words to explain it.

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I open my eyes to face
The darkness around me
I find myself trapped
No outlet no key

I tap the stony walls
Wondering if I'd be let out
I scream in hopeless frustration
And in vain I drearily shout

My heart pounds against my tense chest
Fearing death's ascending foot falls
My paws bleed continuously
As I scratch these stony walls

I stare at my raw meat
Smelling pungently ferrous
I grin insanely in Randomness
As laughter shadows my terrors

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Whenever I try to explain something to myself, I always start from the beginning, even if I already know where the ending leads. Even if I've already explained it, the same way, many times before. Like every time I open myself up it seems I haven't really gone anywhere since the last time. It's only the appearance of my 'cage' which changes. The beast inside, the real me, has little capacity for growth. All it does is growl and thrash its claws: day in, and day out.

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Life is an illusion. Fear is an illusion. Pain is an illusion.

But not all illusions are made equal.

We have placed ourselves in an illusion of life so we may survive this hard and cruel world, but the price we pay is imprisonment.

Our vey esscence, soul, way of being, is all trapped within a small fleshy illusion that could end any second, on any day.

Though we may sometimes fear this Dark World, it is in all honesty, simply a sanctuary with the lights turned off.

If we learn its secrets, our weakness becomes our strength, and we become as close to unstoppable as illusonarily possible.

Because even in our own bodies, we dont feel at home. Even if they are my eyes, I feel alienated from the Light World, to the point where im not even sure where I am.

Nightmares are my nightly friends. They dont hurt me anymore, just surprise me on occasion. Ive had nightmares for a long time now, and if we can use them to our advantage, they become our greatest ally.

We all need to hear our own voice from time to time. If for nothing else, at least to know we still "exist".

Edited by Fang Archbane
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The heart is the vessel that contains the soul, the heart is held inside of the ribcage. Your soul/inner sun is speaking in metaphor. It hides deep inside the intestines and traps itself in a terrifying maze of fleshy tentacles. After escaping the tentacular prison your heart emerges to find a mind working alone. When a body loses its Pathos its Lothos will rule the Ethos and the body becomes like an Empty Aramor.

Edited by Rophs
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