The one truth that I understood long ago was
that we're never really free.
It's quite an illusion. We always only have like a set of choices (at least sane or acceptable ones) that we can choose from.I never had much problem with that. Whenever I felt pressured or "not free" I'd just retreat into a smaller space.A book perhaps, a new story to dive into or a show or just a home with my family nagging me as always and a cup of tea and useless conversation.But now everything is slightly starting to show cracks.My small space is being intruded upon.Sometimes I ask myself "is it so important to hate someone for just being a bit different from you? In the most superficial matters like the kind of drink they like or the religion they have." You could just let them breathe and be, we're all gonna die anyway. Doesn't matter if u kill a certain group of humans before you, we'll meet at the same ground anyway somewhere,someday.Hopefully.And then maybe our voices would be heard and you would say sorry and cry at our feet for being this horrendous.Until then I guess we can only continue to be buried.Trying to breathe in through the mud.Trying to catch the light seeping in through the casket cracks.
~i felt like I would bleed if I didn't write this.
