Freedom… I often wonder of its existence, its presence within us all… I wonder if we shall or have ever been free within both ourselves and the constraints of this world; free to do what and when we pleased. As I ponder this perplexing, yet calming thought, a similarly calming wind passes by my face, allowing my face to breathe as it traverses my trachea, while my lungs inhale the cool air. My legs are worn now, tired as if I have walked a mile more than my life has allowed, and want only to sit -- If only for a few moments. Off in the distance, I see a young child, a boy who looks 12 or so… He seems a happy child, ignorant in his ways, who looks as if he is enjoying his childhood. If only I had been so unknowing, acceptant in my ways, I would have been happy at least once in my life. Instead, look where I have haphazardly landed myself. This ironic fortuity does not elude me, however, and am reminded of that when my foot slips. I can only imagine the look upon my face at that point in time - sheer, pants wetting terror, without the actual pants wetting occurring. For if I had fallen at that point in time, I’m sure freedom would have been the last thing on my mind, yet the first and last thing after the fall that I would have experienced.
Gaining composure after my short duet with potential death, I felt it necessary to remove myself from such a situation that may occur once more, with less fortunate results. I left the roof of my apartment block, returning once more to my study; albeit with more than a slight distaste for study in the face of possible freedom. Why I put myself in such situations, I know clearly. Death is but the dream I fall asleep for… To sleep, perchance to dream… To die, perchance to sleep forever. Why I am afraid of such situations is beyond me. Climbing down from the roof, with my hands against the cold, dark steel of the ladder grasped loosely, I suddenly felt the urge to let go, yet I cling on. While it is true that I have never been content with my life, even at an early age wanting to be others, it is also true I have never lost hope, my wishes or dreams. If only my hopes need not be hopes,, I think, reaching for the latch on the near-rotten wooden window. Climbing through the window of this old block, housing this particular 2 bedroom unit, I manage to catch my foot in the eagre-to-close window. Gah, just your luck, I remind myself, while freeing my foot which does indeed get me into many a situation, usually more than leaving it in my mouth. Sitting down at where my life has taken me thus far, the computer, I continue the study which I had put off for a bit of fresh air. I encounter what had previously belated this study, an Instant-Messenger window…
Crazee Girl says:
Yeah, I met this guy on Saturday night… We’re going to see if it works out, you know?
Ah ok… I hope things work out, you need this right now…
Crazee Girl says:
Thanks, I knew I could count on you. :-)
While reading this more than depressing conversation, my roommate on his way to the toilet dispenses information I would rather he not dispense. “You put yourself in these situations, dude, stop worrying all the time, be ruthless for once,” and with that, the bathroom door slammed shut. She knows she can count on me… She that I love and breathe for knows she can count on me. I suddenly get a similar dark, deep feeling in the pit of my stomach, loneliness, despair, complete and utter desolate silence (apart from my roommate playing music next door at what I believe to be full volume). I try hard to shake this feeling off, it never particular is a success, but this time, this time I somehow convince myself of my empty stomach, this feeling of malnutrition… Slamming the door with my jacket and arm in-tow, I trod sadly down the path to the local shopping centre, full of completely uninteresting bland food. My mind wanders back to the eventuality of freedom, or at least the concept of potential freedom. It strikes me that while I did not wish to choose to put myself on the roof in the first place, or even the ladder, I did so anyway… Placing myself in certain situations… I try to shake off this feeling as I approach the busy crossroads off the equally busy shopping centre. I am reminded of the happy child, what it must have been like to be such joyful little soul. I think of my father, a transparency of an apparent parent, a self-confessed workaholic who never wished to be. I think of my mother with a flair for the dramatic, the melodramatic and for anything with the word drama within. The usual family… puhlease, even a “normal” family has more variety than I or my own. Rubbing my eyes and depressing the now-bleeping crossing button, I await the signal to GO.
A walking green man, one foot -- in front another. I take a leaf from this green man’s book on life and place one foot in front of the other, briskly walking across the road. Ruthless. Could I be? Should I be? What I should have done was waited until I had actually seen the green man. The next thing I knew, I was free.