If I were thrown, blindfolded, into a cold room without furnishings, if I were dragged across the rough floor and shackled to an old radiator, if I were closed up into a box, captive, isolated save passing dust motes...
I would put up a fight. I would kick and scream until there was nothing left. I would resist. I would bite and lash. If I were lucky, maybe I'd land a blow or two. But eventually my stamina would fade.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would cry. I would weep. I would sob. But eventually that would fade, too. And surely, hopefully, I would find some desperate solace in contemplation.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would think about my past. All the people I should have thanked and kissed and hugged. In my state of wearied panic, perhaps I would finally be able to accept it. Because with all things gone by, our hands are bound anyway with respect to changing them. You cannot strip the ink from the written page, you can only rip and smudge it.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would work the blindfold off. Pressing the knot at the back of my head against the wall, I would push the fabric loose. I would gaze groggily at the cracked, blue-tone, peeling plaster wallpaper, the warped wood paneling, the moth-bitten drapes.
I would think about the present. Is it really a gift? I would look for a way out. I would pry and pull and writhe to see if I could break my bindings. I would look around the room for the umpteenth time and find nothing but a shut window and locked door. God cannot close or open either of them. I am still chained to a radiator.
I would scream. I would shout and yell and monologue hopelessly. I know no one will come because this is not a movie and this is not a happy ending. I am the protagonist and the antagonist, the climax and the denouement. I am none of these.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would think about the future. About all my work unfinished. The things I shouldn't have started and the things I should've completed. The jobs and family that I'll never have. The stories waiting sadly for me to write their endings when I cannot even write my own.
But this will push me forward.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would take hold of all my hopes and strengths. I would stand up and pull and sweat. I would strain against the chains. I would rip the radiator from the wall and tumble over from inertia. I would crawl across the floor, dragging metal with me.
If I were chained to a radiator, I would find a way out.
