Cage

*

Marcin lies on the floor in his room, staring blankly at his chemistry notebook. He has an important test in this subject tomorrow and he absolutely doesn't want to study. "Why the hell should I know this nonsense about sugar?" This thought had been haunting him nonstop for several minutes. He felt a growing rebellion somewhere above his stomach, near his breastbone. He knew this feeling well; it would soon reach its peak, and he would have to, simply have to, do something to get rid of all his emotions. At first, he felt a growing rebellion and despair.

"Fuck, I have final exams in six weeks and I'm studying some fucked-up chemistry," the voice in his mind grew increasingly shaky. He knew there was no point in lying on the ground anymore, so he got up and started frantically thinking about what to do with himself. Besides, the carpet started to irritate his elbows, making him even more desperate to get up. In this state, he hated being irritated by something, and everything irritated him then. His mother, especially when she asked him something. He would then reply in a brusque tone, "anything." It was the answer to everything. What's wrong with you? "Anything," what do you want for breakfast? "Anything," do you want something to eat? "Anything." The answers became increasingly brusque, so his mother gave up and left. Adding to all the irritating things was a feeling of guilt, which made him even angrier. Now he stood there, feeling the bitterness growing in his heart. His thoughts at times like these are the same: "Why don't I have any ideals to live for!? Something to fight for!" "My life is so empty!" "And boring..." Now it's the same, the same mantra repeated in his mind at these special moments. He walked over to the bed and lay down on it. He wanted to jump, struggle, and generally live it out, but the senselessness of it struck him. He lay there, staring at the ceiling. Another standard train of thought – coming up with arguments to prove that love doesn't exist. Love, friendship, and everything in general. Oh, and why believe in God? Yes, that too. He's getting more and more nervous, he knows he HAS to do something. They played some "powerful" song on the radio, with "some long-haired guy probably tearing up the whole thing" – this thought infuriated Marcin. He doesn't know the words, nor does he understand them because it's in English and it's slurred. He got out of bed and sat on the carpet, pretending to hold a microphone and silently moving his lips, "imitating" the soloist. He starts shaking his head, imagining himself on stage, "moving" the crowds. "Why am I not famous!?" a familiar thought comes to him, and another wave of bitterness floods his heart. The song has changed to some slow American wail of a woman, definitely a blonde. It irritates him; he felt good with the previous song. He turns down the radio so that it's almost inaudible. However, the feeling of a volcano filling up never leaves him. "I'm bored!!!" he screams in his mind, twisting his face mercilessly. He knows that's not the case, he simply doesn't know what to do with himself. He would write something, but he has no inspiration, he would study, but he doesn't feel like it, he would break something, but it's pointless. "It's pointless, everything is pointless. Why write anything? It's pointless, why do I need this, why study? It's pointless." He starts making silly faces and flailing his fists in the air, as if he were fighting an invisible opponent. Of course, realism prevents him from winning, and finally, panting, he collapses to the ground. "And now I'm in the hospital and everyone's worried about me," he thought. This brings him no solace. "It's not true, Magda wouldn't worry, Iwona wouldn't have time," he thought bitterly."Mom would be sitting in the hospital asking the same questions all the time—how are you feeling? Do you want something to eat? Do you need anything?" "Fuck," he said, his anger condensing in his mind. He got up from the floor and jumped up three times, "What an idiot I am." He went to the closet and opened it. He looked at the clothes and thought, "Why did I open it!?" This irritated him. He didn't close the closet; he would make a mess out of defiance, even though messy mess irritated him. He lay down on the bed again, longing to pick up his phone, looked around, and saw it on the desk. "Fuck, drop everything and go get the phone..." he thought, got up, reached for the phone, and lay down again. He started punching in all the numbers on the keypad, then went to the phone book and scrolled through the saved numbers. "I'll text someone! That'll be good!" He noticed Magda's number, and his irritation reached its peak. "She was acting strange at school, she had this dismissive, ignoring-me attitude." "Too bad—we'll cross Magda off!" he thought with a satisfaction that pissed him off. He thought of Iwona, started texting, "What are you doing?" He erased what he'd written. "Shit, I need to vent! I'll write something rudely honest." He started writing again, "Hi, I'm thinking about you and I can't study. I just think and think, how are you?" He sent it. The report arrived, and the ringtone annoyed him because it was so loud. "Why did I write that!? I'm stupid! Why bother with the truth? Now I'll feel embarrassed!" He threw the phone on the floor and looked at the ceiling. The phone started "beeping like it was being slaughtered" again. "Fucking phone," he thought, got up, and received a text from Iwona—"I'm learning English, I want to sleep, and I'm not thinking about anything :p" Oh yes, of course, that smiley face. Marcin has no fucking clue what she means and gets even angrier. "Such a hopeless answer!?" "I don't give a damn about you..." He sat down on the floor and started thinking about a response. "Oh fuck!" he thought and started typing, "You know, I love you." He deleted it. "What a mess I am!!! After that text, she wouldn't have spoken to me at all. Fuck! As usual, you have to suppress everything! There's no love, friendship, or truth—the old unwanted truth, fuck, there's no truth either. So what's the point of saying there's no love?" In this state, philosophy is pissing him off. He started looking around the room for an idea for a text message. He started typing, "Are you meditating!? Oh... that's a bad sign that you're not thinking about anything. Something's wrong with your humor?" he sent it. "What a hopelessly gray and boring text message... you're meditating... how stupid I am! It was supposed to be a joke... great. Crap." The report came again, and he threw his phone into the middle of the room. The thought that it might break brought a feeling of guilt. Feelings were burning inside him like fire – anger, discouragement, boredom, bitterness, a desire for fulfillment… The phone started beeping. He went to it and checked what and who wanted it. Iwona let out a beep. “I mean – leave me alone.” He was furious. He looked at his chemistry notebook and the bitterness hit him so hard that he lay down on the ground again. A flash of thought came to him – he did five push-ups and lay down again. He picked up a pen and started squeezing it.He wanted it to burst, but it was hard, and it pissed him off. He opened his chemistry notebook to a page unrelated to the test topic. Without reading, he flipped through a few pages, closed it, and opened it again. He flipped through a few pages again and closed it. He felt guilty that he wouldn't study for tomorrow. "I'll have to revise. Fuck! Fucking school!" He got up and lay down on the bed. "To disappear like that!" Yes, that's what he really wanted. "To escape my body and let someone else control my movements." He began to play with his fingers. He felt his emotions slowly leaving him, but peace was still far from over. He thought about the text message to Iwona. He felt a little nervous again, but less so. "Why did I write that? I'm thinking about you... I'm stupid. Suppress everything and it will be alright..." "I have to go to sleep, no, I have to study chemistry," he wrestled with his thoughts, perfectly illustrated by his hands hitting each other. "I'll study tomorrow morning," he thought, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. He remembered the radio playing softly, grabbed the remote, and turned up the volume. A song was playing that "inspired hope." He heard the words: "This world loves you (...)." He got angry and muttered under his breath, "Bullshit." He turned off the radio and turned off the light. The darkness helped him suppress what he believed needed to be suppressed in today's world—emotions. In special cases, it triggered them, but not today. "I hate the word SUPPRESS, I'm so closed off... I'd like to talk to someone, Iwona," he thought, and felt a wave of shame at the thought of his text message today. He closed his eyes and began to imagine various things, mostly bad things. He fell asleep.with Iwona," he thought, and felt a wave of shame at the thought of his text message today. He closed his eyes and began to imagine various things, mostly bad ones. He fell asleep.with Iwona," he thought, and felt a wave of shame at the thought of his text message today. He closed his eyes and began to imagine various things, mostly bad ones. He fell asleep.

**

His mother woke him up, as usual, entering the room and asking the same question as always:

"What time do you leave for school?"

This irritated Marcin, but he was too sleepy and groggy to comment, so he muttered under his breath without opening his eyes:

"I'm leaving at 8:03…

" "Get up already, I'm leaving." With that, his mother left the room, and Marcin lay in bed, a little annoyed that he had to get up. "I don't feel like getting up…" he groans the eternal mantra in his mind. He pulled back the covers slightly, preparing to get up, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He muttered a little louder to his mother, whom he could hear in the hallway:

"Bye, have a nice day."

"Same here," his mother said, and left. He started thinking about today and remembered chemistry. "Fuck!" he shouted in his mind, "Fucking chemistry..." The thought of studying chemistry made him feel paralyzed, powerless, simply utterly disgusted and loathsome. He hesitantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. There, he looked at his face and disheveled hair. "Why aren't I handsome?" he asked himself, thinking that he was handsome. "You have to say that to appear modest." That was his rule. After he washed up, he went to his room and tried to remember what classes he had today. "Uh... science, math... uh... Polish, no! Science, math, German, Polish, and chemistry. Yes. Fuck, I don't want to go to this school..." But he would go. Skipping school wasn't his style. "I'm too honest, I'll never get anywhere in life," he consoled himself, and smiled. He didn't really think so, but he liked to say it. "It's the age-old game... am I modest or not?" he sighed heavily and began to gather the books scattered on the floor near his desk. As he packed his chemistry notebook, he was tempted to look inside. He realized he remembered almost nothing, and with a pang of guilt, he stuffed it into his backpack. "I'll check it on the bus," he consoled himself. "I need something to eat," he thought, and went to the kitchen. He looked at the rolls on the table, but he didn't feel like cutting or spreading them. He filled the kettle with tap water and put on some tea. He went to the restroom and relieved himself. When he came out, he turned on the radio. The morning show was on; some girl had just won 350 złoty in a competition and was celebrating. "I wish I could win that much! Damn! Some people are so lucky." The kettle whistle began to whistle shrilly, so Marcin ran to the kitchen and turned off the gas. He poured some tea and went to get dressed. He dressed the same as yesterday, the same green fleece shirt and the same cargo pants. He liked these clothes; he felt good in them. He glanced at the clock hanging in the hallway and realized he had to leave. He picked up the mug of tea and took a long sip. He scalded himself and quickly set the mug down, splashing some on his pants. "Fuck," he thought emphatically, glaring at the mug angrily, and stood up. He put on his sneakers, even though he knew his feet would be cold. "I hate hiking boots! When will this damn winter end?" he thought as he put on his jacket. Just his hat, his keys, his backpack, and he was out the door. The cold hit him in the face, and he cursed under his breath again. He closed the door and walked towards the bus stop, trying to shrink as much as possible against the cold. When he reached the bus stop, he realized that, as usual, he had been in a bit of a hurry and was now standing there freezing. Besides him, there was a creepy-looking old man at the bus stop. Marcin waited there in the cold, growing colder with each passing second, inventing new blasphemies. Suddenly, he saw Wiktoria approaching the bus stop. "We have to start playing..." he thought before she reached him.He smiled at her from a distance. Wiktoria said "hi!" first, and he automatically responded with a warm and pleasant voice, "hey!". He couldn't help but glance quickly at her lips. "Wow! She's divine!" he thought. It's worth mentioning that Wiktoria was the sexiest girl Marcin knew, but without knowing her name, when Ania (another friend of his) introduced her, he hadn't said her name, and now he felt embarrassed to ask. Everything about her incredible sex appeal was a combination of things: big eyes, full, sexy lips, a soft voice, perfect skin, a shapely figure, and "divine" legs. She's also about his height. A conversation with Wiktoria always goes the same way. A few comments about the weather, then school, and then they share some funny stories they've shared. Every time he talks to her, he has an irresistible urge to kiss those beautiful lips of hers. "I wonder how she'd react..." he asked himself, and it made him smile. He's not even trying to hit on her, he never has. "She's completely different from me." He also knows he'd never love her. "If I ever truly love any girl," he thought gloomily, "I love Iwona... no, love doesn't exist... I'd go out with her and after a few weeks it would all fizzle out. Besides, it's impossible for her to want to be with me." He felt anger rising, but on the outside he was still pleasant, friendly, and funny. Finally, the bus arrived. Of course, he let Wiktoria pass, who smiled and... went to the back of the bus to join her friends. Marcin stood in the aisle and pretended he didn't care. "Fuck! As usual, she went off to chat, and I'm standing there like an idiot with no one to talk to!" At the next stops, no one he knew got on, so he rode alone to school. In the locker room, he met his classmate, Darek, who was standing with a girl, Justyna (also from his class). He was pissed, but of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny. As Justyna and Darek kissed, he slightly averted his gaze, suppressing his anger. "And of course, I'm alone..." He greeted the arrival of a few classmates with immense relief. Finally, he could stop standing next to Justyna and Darek and instead "engaged" in conversation with the others. Of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny; anger, sadness, regret, and jealousy were all buried deep within him, but he suppressed them all. As usual. "Fuck," he thought sadly, and smiled at Monika, who was talking about how hard it was for her to get up. He automatically responded with a question: "What were you doing last night..." Everyone laughed. Marcin felt like a programmed robot.Everything about her incredible sex appeal was a combination of everything: big eyes, full, sexy lips, a soft voice, perfect skin, a shapely figure, and "divine" legs. She's also about his height. A conversation with Wiktoria always goes the same way. A few comments about the weather, then school, and then they share some funny stories they've shared. Every time he talks to her, he has an irresistible urge to kiss those beautiful lips of hers. "I wonder how she'd react...?" he asked himself, and it made him smile. He's not even trying to flirt with her, he never has. "She's completely different from me." He also knows he'll never love her. "If I ever truly love any girl," he thought grimly, "I love Iwona... no, love doesn't exist... I'd go out with her, and after a few weeks, it would all fizzle out. Besides, it's impossible for her to want to be with me." He felt anger rising, but on the outside, he was still pleasant, friendly, and funny. Finally, the bus arrived. Of course, he let Wiktoria pass, and she smiled and… went to the back of the bus to her friends. Marcin stood in the aisle and pretended he didn't care. "Fuck! As usual, she went off to chat, and I'm standing there like an idiot with no one to talk to!" At the next stops, no one he knew got on, so he rode alone to school. In the cloakroom, he met a classmate, Darek, who was standing with a girl, Justyna (also from his class). He was furious, but of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny. When Justyna and Darek kissed, he slightly averted his gaze and suppressed his anger. "And of course, I'm alone…" The arrival of a few classmates was a huge relief. Finally, he could stop standing next to Justyna and Darek and instead "engaged" in conversation with others. Of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny; he felt anger, sadness, regret, and jealousy deep down inside, but he suppressed it all. As usual. "Fuck," he thought sadly, and smiled at Monika, who was talking about how hard it was for her to get up. He automatically responded with a question: "What were you doing last night...?" Everyone laughed. Marcin felt like a programmed robot.Everything about her incredible sex appeal was a combination of everything: big eyes, full, sexy lips, a soft voice, perfect skin, a shapely figure, and "divine" legs. She's also about his height. A conversation with Wiktoria always goes the same way. A few comments about the weather, then school, and then they share some funny stories they've shared. Every time he talks to her, he has an irresistible urge to kiss those beautiful lips of hers. "I wonder how she'd react...?" he asked himself, and it made him smile. He's not even trying to flirt with her, he never has. "She's completely different from me." He also knows he'll never love her. "If I ever truly love any girl," he thought grimly, "I love Iwona... no, love doesn't exist... I'd go out with her, and after a few weeks, it would all fizzle out. Besides, it's impossible for her to want to be with me." He felt anger rising, but on the outside, he was still pleasant, friendly, and funny. Finally, the bus arrived. Of course, he let Wiktoria pass, and she smiled and… went to the back of the bus to her friends. Marcin stood in the aisle and pretended he didn't care. "Fuck! As usual, she went off to chat, and I'm standing there like an idiot with no one to talk to!" At the next stops, no one he knew got on, so he rode alone to school. In the cloakroom, he met a classmate, Darek, who was standing with a girl, Justyna (also from his class). He was furious, but of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny. When Justyna and Darek kissed, he slightly averted his gaze and suppressed his anger. "And of course, I'm alone…" The arrival of a few classmates was a huge relief. Finally, he could stop standing next to Justyna and Darek and instead "engaged" in conversation with others. Of course, he was nice, friendly, and funny; he felt anger, sadness, regret, and jealousy deep down inside, but he suppressed it all. As usual. "Fuck," he thought sadly, and smiled at Monika, who was talking about how hard it was for her to get up. He automatically responded with a question: "What were you doing last night...?" Everyone laughed. Marcin felt like a programmed robot.