I have been one of the blessed few. The rooftop formula has always worked for me. The one where parents and teachers become one conjoined force and feed to us the bland dish consisting of life and everything it has to offer.
But in the course of feeling like I have everything; I’ve found myself bending under the light of anticipated escapades. I’ve slammed my fist against fate’s door and tried to claim my very own liberation. Whether it was the vague idea of being able to do what I thought I liked, or giving my falsified words to comfort other people; I have, for long, tried to walk over the ashes of my deeds left undone and words spoken redundantly. Not once have I stood at one point and tried to face the tangle inside. That’s rather funny because I’ve always known the aforementioned things without knowing them. The consciousness of my being has stuck to me like a leech and instead of doing something about it; I have carried on with a mind burdened with artificial unawareness.
I’ve used people, I’ll admit. They’ve been my way out. My utopian pathway, the one I ‘finally’ tread.
But it hasn’t exactly gone that way. People have become my source, my light, my guiding path to emancipation.
I have waited, day in and day out, at the threshold of fortunately unfortunate events, only so I can walk over them for a little while and feel the bliss of what the freedom would taste like once I have reached the far end.
Despite my sincere efforts, I’ve never managed to crawl out of my hole of liberation. And here’s the tricky part about being in the hole- by the end of it you’re so accustomed to the comfort of desire that it, undeniably, becomes a part of you. The desire, which was earlier to seek refuge in a physically privileged environment, has now turned over to its vicious side where I am only displacing myself from one hole to another; never really getting out.