Fear is a Retarded Chicken

Photo Courtesy: Pinterest

There is this chicken at home. Ever since it was young, it has never really fit in. When it hatched its feathers were more like fur, too small and not what was normal. She was taking too long to grow and she was quickly left behind by her peers. It came to a point where she was too fragile to even move. You think a chickens bones can’t get any hollower. So we put her in a cushioned box in the kitchen where a light bulb hung always for warmth and light. We fed her fresh milk and yoghurt and cooked rice. We had eye drops for her. She got better, but she couldn’t walk straight. She leans on one side, stumbling more than walking.  I don’t even think its little brain works properly and if you observe it well, its eyesight isn’t as useful either. Most of the other chicken that hatched together with her are either stew or trade history. No one will eat her (is it okay if I use it, rather than her? yes? ok)
So no one will eat her because we don’t want to catch whatever is ailing her. We don’t even know if it’s contagious, but what are we, guinea pigs?
So this chicken lives in her coop alone. We let her out daily, unlike the other chicken. So it gallivants around our small compound, feasting on worms and cozying up in the cool holes it digs in the soil in this hot weather. We should have built it a chicken pool, with ledges where it can dry its feathers after a dive and sip layers mash flavored mojitos. It doesn’t even lay eggs. However, it gets privileges the others don’t. In essence, we keep the chicken alive until it dies. Its purpose is to die. I don’t even know how it will explain this in chicken heaven.
Like an old tycoon, only there will be no inheritance tussles, because this chicken did not read enough motivation books and did not @billionarequotes. It also didn’t go to bird school, so while others became eagles and rode the thermals, it just sits there, waiting for me to clean the verandah  so that it can carry its body weight and relieve itself on it before the floor soaks up the water.
And it got me thinking, feelings aside, chicken rearing is a business. This one adds no value, yet it continues to enjoy the investments. In your life situation, I don’t know if you have this chicken situation. Relationships or jobs or just general situations you know too well have no future, but you keep feeding your energy into them. There are signs in bold, highlighted italics that tell you to take the next step on the staircase. But suddenly youre afraid of heights, you’re scared you’ll lose the security of a monthly salary and the thought of being alone leaves you petrified. Like a stain on a peasant’s linen, youre stuck. The uncertainty of the future too overwhelming. So you feed the chicken and wait for it to die. But what if the chicken wants to die? How will you handle your chicken?


P.s: no one is touching this my chicken.