freedom is a myth

every one i see talks about how essential freedom is. how it's what our soul craves. truth is, freedom has a price. hell, everything has a price.

we're born when a mother pays the price of pain. to have something, we must give something.

i have never felt so free and yet bounded.

you cannot leave who you are at home. hell, what is home? its in our insides and it could take decades for you to pull out the ache that has taken root.

i sat by the ocean yesterday. its funny how waves come into and go out of existence.

i wonder if we are each a wave. if somewhere in another time, someone is watching us. wondering what we mean.

what i've understood of meaning till now is that it's not something we're supposed to have. it's something that's supposed to emerge out of lives - while we dissipate into the inevitable nothingness.

it's like until a song has ended you cannot define what it meant. what it stood for. the world is never the same after a song. it'll never be the same after you.

in a way, this thought frees me. i feel less burdened to try to make something of this life. truth is, living is exhausting when you're constantly reminded that you're running out of time to decide how your story ends.

i don't know how my story will end. i possibly cannot. you cannot reverse engineer your life.

many have tried.

you cannot be free of the next moment. it'll catch you. the past will keep nagging you, trying to help you live better.

the cost of freedom is war.

you cannot be free of yourself.

maybe, it's time you stopped trying.