The Girl in the Cellar

The Girl in the Cellar

The Girl in the Cellar

By Zoensangi Ralte

A confession that I need to make; a confession, that I lock a girl up in my Cellar.

I locked her up because of many reasons and these reasons only continues to grow as the days pass. I locked her up because she knows many secrets that I confined in her. She is aware of my darkest actions and personal deeds; some I don’t want to remember even as thoughts.

She is locked up because she is unpleasant and she sometimes questions the status quo, the expectation of my community and the society I live in. She speaks brashly when she sees something that crosses her morality. She is too subjective. She is locked up because she is ungrateful to the society that teaches her, the community that raised her and the family that loves her. She is locked up and I don’t allow myself to visit her often because I do not wish to confront her accusations.

I admire her, I am delighted by an existence as wild and true as her. Nevertheless, I also hate her because she is everything that I cannot allow myself to be. I cannot be associated with her if I do not want to be excluded from the reality that is built around me, knowing her wild and destructive ideas; she would most probably get herself in trouble. That is how I justify myself for this sin I know I commit. I am simply protecting my wellbeing and I’m also protecting her.

She is a fighter, of course she continues to live on even if I don’t feed her, entertain her or give her any hope days after days. However, it is common knowledge that even I possess; that no one can live forever in such a dark and tight space of existence that I locked her in. So, one day she will probably die and I will have to bury her away until her existence is completely forgotten. Until she simply becomes a childish fascination… I admit it is hard to develop and move forward when I always have to guard my cellar so that she does not get out, so that no one knows that I lock a girl up in my cellar.

For now, she refuses to die. I often admonish myself for being too weak to kill her and at the same time I resent myself for being too cowardly to release her and let society see how monstrous she can be, what kind of a person I truly am. Sometimes she grips my chest and pound at my skull but I learned a long time ago, of how to lock that aspect of my soul deep within the cellar of my mind. I learned that I am the conscious that locked up my unconscious desires and thoughts.

Do you have someone locked up in your cellar too?