Where do I go?

There is nowhere I can go. I am trapped by this thing. I don't even know what this thing is, however I feel I am enslaved by it. I feel it strangling me, sapping the breath from my lungs. I want to scream, to rid myself of this burdening thing, yet I feel Its claws stifling my ability to even speak. I am alone. With this thing. Perhaps time will come to pass when I can leave this thing or that it will tire of me. Either way, I must wait. I must wait for freedom. I think the wait will be long and gruelling, a test of patience. Perhaps for the entirety of my life....I will wait...for freedom. What if I am already free? The question could be that freedom is an illusion and in an ironic twist of fate, I long for something that cannot be. I sit here before you with my arms and legs free from shackles and chains. Thus I am free; free to leave this place of rest, to never return, to wander to and fro upon the vast brown earth and across the azure sea. However will I be free? Free from this thing? From this thing, which clings, like cloth anointed with sleets of rain, awash with a sense that I cannot be free. Will I be free from this thing that they call...Me?