Steal Freedom
I came to understand something recently that lent me no small amount of liberty.
(First, a quick note about liberty: I maintain that liberty is far from synonymous with freedom. Liberty is given to me; freedom, I steal if necessary. And I’ve walked that walk.)
For years, I described myself as a perfectionist and held that as a perpetual failing of my character. Suddenly, three days ago, driving along an average city road to I-don’t-remember-where, I caught a new thought: I am not a perfectionist; I have what seems to be a rare condition called Lust for Constant Improvement of My Character.Â
Modesty has its place--it has many places--but if put anywhere other than in its place it will chew and digest and ruin. I will not be modest about this: no longer am I a perfectionist. I crave improvement.  I am curious.  I want more than I have and none of that is material. This, hopefully, makes me better than those around me. And if it doesn’t do so inherently, it soon will, as a symptom.
I hope others who may be afflicted with my condition gain liberty from this, or the courage to steal freedom.Â
K












