you go about your day to day life. over. and over. and over. the monotony never changes, your actions never change, and you never change. you are eternally locked in a place of solid color with nothing surrounding you, but you firmly believe that you have a house, a family, a life. until one day, maybe it's been a year, maybe a thousand, time has no meaning, and you can't recall a beginning anyway, something changes.

You look up. and above you, you see strings. quickly, your head jerks down, you weren't meant to tilt up your head. but it's too late. your imagined, false world melts from around you and you see the truth of where you are. an empty, confusing place. 

"well, puppet. you know the truth. here, take these scissors, cut yourself loose. you are of no worth to me if you don't go on. or, forget this and continue. be happy. the choice is yours." what? you turn, swinging slightly, lifelessly, and see scissors next to you. freedom. you take them, finding yourself in possession of your strength, and cut the strings, one by one, relishing the twang, until only one remains.

"cut it. be free." you don't pause to think about why it wants you free, you snap the scissors, one last time, listening to the sound of the scissors closing, the string snapping. they dissipated, like mist. you inhale, hoping to smell the air sweeter with the freedom you didn't miss. and then you fall.

you stare up at the ever farther strings. they held you up. without them, you are free, you have a form of life, and... you are falling and there's no gilded cage to save you. knowing what you know now, should you have cut the strings, reader?