What is freedom?

I’ve never been good at describing things. Being free. What is freedom?

Is it really as good as it sounds? People say it’s being comfortable in your skin, acting however you want, or maybe it’s feeling unrestrained by the rules. Isn’t that just confidence? Rebellion? Acceptance? What makes freedom feel so free?

What makes people so happy about freedom? Is it being left alone, left to take care of yourself. Is that not neglect?

Freedom is hard to describe. It’s a vague word that means something different to everyone, everyone thinks freedom means something different, however small that difference may be.

Do birds feel free soaring up into the clouds? Or is it the usual? They’ve been born with wings, unknowing of what its like without them. Do they feel trapped when they are first borned, unable to fly?

Being stuck in a cage so long that you won’t come out, even if it’s wide open just for you. We’re so similar to these so called ‘animals’ yet we’re too prideful to admit it. It’s funny. Really. We call experiments ‘inhumane’ and yet it’s really only the humans doing it. What makes a human a human?

We feel like they do, we need to eat and drink just like them, what makes us special? Intelligence? Emotions? We feel our ego get shattered when we’re compared to them, but weren’t we once the same? What changed..?

The standards of society, what is perfect? How do we decide imperfections? Is something really ever perfect or not? Each thing out of place, how’d we decide that it was not normal, how’d we decide normal? Maybe freedom was deciding the standards for ourselves, after all, nobody really knows you except you.

Isn’t it weird? How many versions of you people see? Yet none of it’s the same as how you see yourself. Maybe growing wings won’t set you free, but trap you instead. The sky isn’t the limit.

Don’t be embarrassed to do anything, embarrassment and shame is only something crafted by the thoughts of others. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks? That’s what’s so ironic. It does matter. Maybe it’s a job, a school, or a hobby. You care so much and so do others. Their opinions matter so much for your future, so take this advice with a grain of salt.

The world may be sad, but you don’t have to be. Find a balance. Laying in the fields of flowers, the smell of flowers waft into your nose, overpowering anything else. You can’t think about anything bad here. The tiny feeling of petals and buds, insects that crawl desperately beneath you. They crave for freedom. But what happens after?

Perhaps freedom is just being. Where it doesn’t matter. Where you don’t have to worry. About responsibilities. About others. Yourself. Where you can just relax and be. That’s the kind of freedom I wish for.