What is freedom to you?
Is it something you're given or earned?
Is it tangible?
Can you touch it?
Sartre once suggested that "Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you". On the topic of existentialism, the idea that one's freedom is shaped by the response to external circumstances is a moving reflection. Does your freedom derive from the actions of others, or does it spring forth from the crucible of your own choices?
John Stuart Mill once proclaimed, "The worth of a state in the long run is the worth of the individuals composing it." In this light, does the collective yearning for freedom fortify the foundation of a society, or does it rest upon the shoulders of individuals striving for liberation? Can freedom truly exist in isolation, divorced from the social and societal pressures of the outside?
I don't buy into abstract notions. Can you hold freedom in your hand, feel its weight, or is it just a philosophical construct that vanishes when scrutinized? How would you respond to Nietzsche's perspective that "Freedom is the will to be responsible for ourselves"?
Visualize this for me: You're standing there, and I hand you what's supposed to be freedom. Does it have a texture, a tangible quality, or is it as intangible as the air we breathe? I'm not looking for a poetic rendition; I'm asking if freedom is something you can hold onto, or if it slips through your fingers like fine sand.
According to Nietzsche, freedom isn't some abstract notion; it's the will to be responsible for ourselves. Can you buy into that idea, or do you think it's just another philosophical construct that crumbles under scrutiny? Is there weight to Nietzsche's claim, or is it just more words? I want specifics. Do you see freedom as a concrete reality, something you can touch, or is it just a mental exercise?
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What was I thinking about? My mind was surprisingly restless as I climbed into bed. Why was that? Was it the upcoming second year? Tsukishiro would serve a problem, my peaceful life would hang in the balance. I had to worry about them finding out about Kei, too. Was this anxiety?
This year was eventful, to say the least, and now I just wanted some rest.
Forcing myself to sleep was a common routine, I had been doing this for years now—whether it be in the White Room or in ANHS, where I now resided.
"Haah..."
I took in a deep breath, closing my eyes.
Relax your body, arms, legs, facial muscles. Drop your shoulders and let your hands drop to the side of your body.
Stabilize your breathing
Think of a relaxing scene...
One without...That Man...
One without compasses...
One with ice cream...
One with a peaceful life...
One without Horikita...
𝐀𝐧𝐝...𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩...
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YOU ARE READING
Classroom of The Elite x AOT: Wax Wings
FanfictionAyanokouji Kiyotaka, the Masterpiece of the White Room has gone missing, disappearing into thin air one night before the end of spring break. His whereabouts are unknown, his condition even less so. In his quest for freedom, equality and the rekindl...
