Sunday, November 27

How Freedom Tastes Like: Birthday Dresses, Pretty Boys and Choices


I have, as a woman, always struggled with the idea of freedom. When I was little, it was about choosing my birthday dress. I wouldn't ever know of that, because I would sit silently in my room making everybody wait by the cake, until my father got home with the dress. I would happily put it on as if it were it, it were exactly what I wanted.

Until I was about fifteen, I could hardly apprehend choices. When I was in grade seven, I liked two boys at the same time and they both would drive me equally mad about them both physically and emotionally. I just couldn't choose. I wanted them both equally. Is this normal to not be able to choose between two people you love? But, why do I have to choose at all.

At sixteen, freedom tasted like ice cream cones topped with vanilla and pretty boys. I no longed swayed between the idea of loving two people. I just did. Without a care, without a doubt, I loved silently and tremendously. That was my idea of freedom- the choice to be silent. Later, it evolved into a stronger stimulus, which triggered my brain to reciprocate that love. Now, my idea of freedom was to not expect love in return. Often, people aren't capable of loving, but they forget that they are capable of being loved. I would not give up on them. I would hold them tight in between my arms and out-rightly love the fuck out of them.

At twenty one, building a life without the lover I thought I'll never give up on, was the most intimate adventure I ever had. I did it because not loving him was the greatest tragedy. I remember watching him sit by his desk few days before I said goodbye, wondering if I'll ever be able to do this again. I did. Again. And again.

When you look at life pass by from dawn to dusk and dawn again, you instincts keep hauling you back to where you started from. I met the one I wasn't prepared for. I woke up sleeping in his arms and realized that the first date-night has passed and he was driving me back home. He ruined me cause I was just falling in love with solitude. Death isn't this beautiful, until you experience it.

Months later, an old storm walked past me and brushed it's warm hand across my cheek. Sometimes it takes only a moment and you fall right back into what you started from. What if the one that got away, came back? If you want them back, keep them, with no strings attached. Freedom is when you set your boundaries and have the strength to keep them intact.

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