Freedom, Please Show Up.

There is 

one

calling

we

all 

share in common:

Free Life.

*

Freedom 

is

one of the most

misunderstood

words

in this generation.

Think about

the

 words and images

that bloom in your

mind

at the mention

of the word

'Freedom'.

What do you

 see?

How would you

define

'Freedom'?

One of the most

common

answer

is

'Doing 

whatever

 I 

want.'

In the process

of

maturity,

that is,

in this case,

to continue

 growing intellectually,

let's not

mindlessly swallow

general assumptions

of society

as we did

when we were 

younger.

As

homo sapiens,

which means,

the

'thinking species',

we understand that

not every piece of 

information 

is true -

much less

a 

general statement.

If we pride

ourselves to be

smart,

let's really be smart

and

not quickly judge and believe

whatever

'most people'

believe.

Smart people

don't just follow.

They

check things out

before 

they decide 

to

believe

in something.

*

To

find truth,

we need to

seek

it.

So now,

let's take a 

closer look

and

investigate

this subject:

Freedom

means

'Doing whatever I want.'

-

True or False?

*

BRAINSTORM.

Recall

a

time

you did

'whatever' 

you want.

Did you 

enjoy 

it?

If you did,

how long 

did

enjoyment

last?

Were there

any

after-effects

after that?

If there were,

was it

positive

or

negative?

How did you 

feel

then?

Was anybody

involved 

in the after-effects?

How did

 they

feel?

Did anything

change

around you?

Did

you

change,

in any way?

Do you like
the change;

who you are
and
what you are like
today?

*

I recall 

a time

I did

whatever I wanted.

It was my

life motto

to do just that.

I still own

the diary

which I penned my

thrilling encounters and adventures.

There are certain pages

I laugh aloud to myself

whenever I review them.

Today,

I wish I could

boast

how my life

was an unending party on earth

when I lived by that

'freedom' 

I swore by.

Reality

refused

my wish.

Pages after the

 cheery days,

there are

countless records

of

tear-smudged

and

wild, angry

handwritings.

Reading them again

always makes me

cringe;

I cringe

at the

lie

that

freedom means

'doing whatever I want to do.'

The lie

fooled me.

I thought 

I was

independent,

decisive

and

carefree.

I was

high and lifted up.

I thought

I was fantastic

just because

people told me so.

But 

something strange

crept into

 my life.

So strange,

it was

shameful.

It was my

greatest, darkest

 secret.

There was 

pain.

There was

pain.

There was

pain.

It came in the form of

regrets,

anxiety,

anger

and

a bottomless pit of 

emptiness.

While I tried to

maintain

my

confidence

outwardly,

I was busy

struggling with something

inside.

I remember wondering,

night after night,

lying in bed,

'I've been doing

all I want to do.

What is this

vacuum

inside me,

craving for

something I don't know?

Where do these

tears

come from,

hurting for

what I thought 

I already got?

I am suppose to be

happy.

I have been

''free''

I waste no opportunity

to 

get my way

all the time

but why do I 

still feel

this way -

when I look at my 

latest material possessions,

I am

desperately discontent

in all things,

I am

insanely competitive

groping bodies on the crowded dance floor,

I face

paranoid loneliness,

lashing glares and spitting anger

on people who annoyed me,

I wrestled with a

choking temper,

in

repetitive, loveless, cheap intimacies,

insecurity 

still consumed me.

Day and night,

I grab all the 

happiness

I can get

but

a stinking accumulation of 

mental and emotional 

garbage

continues to

overcome me.

Freedom,

if this is really 

you,

what have you done to

me?

Are you not

our

friend?

Why have you become

an

enemy?'

*

'I

don't care.

I

want it

and

I 

want it

now.

I 

say it

and

I say it

out loud.

I

just wanna have some

fun.'

That sounds like

the attitude of being

'free-spirited'.

With all sincerity,

I don't deny,

that at every point I chose to

exert

my 'right to freedom',

it was 

ecstasy. 

But not long later,

for most of the occasions,

I suffered

terrible,

unforgettable

 emotional and mental

hangovers -

of which

quite a few

has scarred my

memory

to this day.

These scars

remind me 

who I was

isn't a

Free Spirit.

I believe

Freedom is 

good.

And

if it is,

it shouldn't have

destroyed me.

I was not

free at all.

It wasn't 

Freedom's fault.

I was

tied up

and

imprisoned

by

something else -

it was

Self-Interest

aka

Selfishness.

It's nickname is

'I'

Self-Interest

is

the direct opposite of

Freedom -

yes,

True Freedom.

They never click,

although many times,

it seems like they do.

Evidences

have proven,

they are complete

opposites.

[to be continued]

*