It’s dark around me and damp, the moisture sits like tremulous beads of sweat near my feet. I can’t see anything but I can feel this heavy burden constantly pressing down on my head. It urges me to reach up, to grab anything and slowly crawl out. But the pressure of the vast sky is just too much to resist, the wind that blows around somewhere maybe inches overhead still pushes me further inside. The heaps of layers of soil underneath which I lie buried and covered up has become hard and won’t budge no matter how much I try to wriggle out through the gaps. After hours of struggling around I stop to take a breath, the air inside the soil is dense, little bubbles that I can suck in bit by bit only. But I want more. I want the breeze to touch me, play with my hands and blow in between my fingers. I want the sun to shine on me and the rain to fall all over me. I want to open my mouth and taste the raindrops and scream and whistle in joy. I want to get out and breath and laugh. So I start pushing again and again. After days of crawling around in the mud, one of my fingers break through the uppermost layer of soil and I feel alive for the first time. I know it will take me days, maybe months to grow taller and have more leaves but tonight I shall rejoice because I’m free for once.