Freedom

Freedom


sometimes I wonder how much free will do I still have. Am I really free? Can I do what I want, what makes me happy?  Freedom is a strange word: in it ultimate expression, it means you can do whatever you want to do, whenever you want. But this expression is a trap itself: you can only accomplish it if you are completely alone. Alone, away from every person that may have a problem or a demand against you attitude. Alone, completely isolated from the word itself and everyone related to it. Is loneliness then, the only way to accomplish freedom? I don’t think so; human beings are made for socialize. Any person can live alone. Then, is freedom available? It is real the possibility of getting the freedom every human wanted?
Sometime, a person I esteem said that the problem here is not with freedom itself but with the concept we have of it. Freedom, he said, has to be a way to achieve real happiness. The freedom we all know, which mean doing whatever we want whenever we want, can only lead us to loneliness and laziness: the real freedom is choosing what we want to do with our lives. We can choose which path we want to cross to achieve our goals, to fulfil our dreams. And, by choosing it, we will have to use our freedom to get trapped in compromises: because is impossible to receive anything good if you don’t give a part of yourself in the process. That is the real freedom.
I don’t doubt the wise words of this person. I am quite sure he is right with this concept of his. But, even with this change of definition, I can’t stop thinking if I am really free. Have I choose my path in life? Am I doing what will lead me to become the person I want to become? And, talking about that, what kind of person I DO want to become?
I’m a prisoner. Prisoner of my own story, of my society, of my prejudices. Prisoner of my own weakness, my own doubts, my own ignorance about myself. Prisoner inside this walls that me myself had built in order to defend myself, built with the walls that those things that keep me captive had given me. Rounding around the routine of every day, every gray and sick day of doing the same, standing the same shit that is launch towards me because I had let it happen. And without even knowing why I’m standing that. Am I really free? I don’t think so; I’m just a marionette, the typical archetype of occidental culture. moving and moving again, without reaching anything; claiming against themselves, without moving any finger in order to get a change.
The question know is: Am I going this to continue? Am I really let myself be anything but a marionette?
I don’t think so. Or at least, I like to think I won’t.

*Yay for English cavilations! Written in July third, 2009.