Freedom is a futile goal. To be truly free to be yourself in even one relationship, one occasion, one situation. It’s a nice concept, but just doesn’t exist. Unconditional acceptance is a lie.
It’s amazing the mental bars we can contain ourselves in. An ideological prison locking us down. Entirely of our own making. Well, that’s not always the case. There are circumstantial components beyond our control sometimes. Some of these being for our own good and safety. No-brainers like rules and laws of society so it’s not cool from someone to walk up and bust a cap in your ass for no good reason.
What I’m talking about is the ability to be completely yourself. To let all ideas and thoughts spill out of your vault and allow yourself the breathing room we all desire. To be unafraid to voice your worries and concerns. To share your hearts desires. To abolish worry and pre-conceived judgments, even from someone you trust, or try to trust. Letting fears drown in the pool of faith.
The darkest secrets should be kept in the closet with the skeletons. But being comfortable enough to spew what’s on your mind is, for me, a palatable desire, yet an unobtainable one.
The internet isn’t a safe enough place to do this. Trolls will always be around to shit on your heart’s texts. Your family won’t listen since they have too much history with you under their belt and their listening skills shut down far before their mouths begin to run. Your friends, no matter how accepting they appear to be, have lines that you can not cross or they will be gone. Your lover will only take so much before they’re out the door muttering under their breath that you were a crazy pain in the ass.
I equate this kind of peace of mind to a lazy day with bright skies and a cool breeze. The kind of day that allows you to take the deepest, most fulfilling breaths. A calm you feel to the core of your soul.
I’m standing in a dank room with cigar smoke choking the atmosphere and someone just farted.
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