1993, I pooped my pants in daycare. The natural urge to speak what I want hasn't come naturally yet. Or maybe it has already been suppressed. I fear being the clown of the crowd. Sitting rigidly as if no one will notice the drama under my pants. The greatest disgust of my own secret is a better reality than revealing it. Yet the kids notice the weird smell. The fear of shame only paralyzes me even more. An afternoon losing my soul and true voice. Compressed in the cage. Silent and frozen. Waiting for the awakened self decades later to unfreeze.