“Mama why are the animals in jail?” the little boy with wide wondrous eyes asked.

“Sweetie they aren’t in jail; this is their home,” his mom replied. The boy continued to stare at the gorillas that were looking back at him with empty eyes.

“Come on baby, let’s see the snakes,” the mom tugged at his skinny, fragile arm. He followed her, his gaze still locked on the gorillas.

I have been to the zoo many times and normally felt a sense of happiness, but never have I felt the same empty feeling the Gorillas had in their big, black eyes. It made me sad to see how this kid views the world, and even sadder to know I was once that kid. What happened?

Yes, I grew up, but why couldn’t I have the innocence that shields the world from the bad? Now, my mind is always on high alert: don’t talk to that person they may be a serial killer, hold your bag in front of you so it doesn’t get stolen, don’t make eye contact with that person on the train, travel in twos to the bathroom. The list goes on and is constantly on replay.

There was a day when I would leave my house, chipped toenails and walk on the hot cement to play outside until sunset. I would come back home, guided only by the light of the stars. I was never scared someone was following me and could hurt me. The only thing that could hurt me was a ghost, or coyote. I think the coyotes scared me more.

Today, I leave my apartment at a certain time of the day, before it gets too late and the craziest of crazies are on the train. I have to have a bag that has multiple straps, buttons and zippers to confuse potential thieves on my lap; I cling to it like my child. I bring a book and only make eye contact with the words on the page. I realized I am like the gorilla, trapped in a place that is supposed to be my home. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chicago, it is my favorite city, but I have seen too many bad things to feel free here and anywhere else in the world.

Take me back to the days where the newest SpongeBob episode airing was my biggest concern. Take me back to the days when I could wear the clothes I wanted to, with out be labeled, the days when I could eat as much ice cream as I wanted without worrying about getting diabetes. Take me back to the days where my sister and I would stay up all night talking and laughing before the first day of school, not barely talking because we are so busy with our lives. These were the days of my innocence, before I started watching the news, got mugged, a drunk driver totaled my car with my boyfriend and I in it, and before I understood that there was nothing I could do about the animals trapped in their jail cells that some people call home. Take me back before my imprisonment was called my freedom.