wabi - sabi

otto

"𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖..."

How exactly does one say that they are free? How exactly does freedom feel? Is it when you've visualized the feeling of flying with your wings and drawing a dazzle of colors into the vastness of the universe as a mark of your blossoming?

The world is huge, and I, myself, am little and by far insignificant to the totality of the universe—perhaps a little too tiny that I cannot even be seen wherever I am. Furthermore, it is not as if I try to be seen—the spotlight has frightened me as much as I can remember. Wherever I go, I am as little as an ant and as hidden as a shadow in the darkness. I am most certain I have never tried to be a part of something bigger. If there was a contest for being the most inactive citizen of society, I might win; who knows?

Most of the time, I make life crush me as though I am in the middle of the street and a massive truck runs over me. And the worst part? I stay in the middle of the street, not moving—I let life do it. I bask in my cowardice and fear of trying to step out of my comfort zone. It is my fear that I preserve in a way that is most similar to self-sabotage. Or perhaps it is truly self-sabotage.

Can one even realize what freedom feels like when they have not yet experienced the feeling of being entrapped?

I blinked and opened my eyes, recalling the feeling of being entrapped all over and over again throughout the entirety of my life. I found myself stuck in my room all day, and as an introvert myself, I am more than grateful to be in my little bubble of solace—away from the world, away from the endless judgments and opinions of everybody else.

Certainly, the comfort always made me feel at home—in my room, that is. I am not to drain my energy towards other people, and I am more than happy to spend my days in my imagination.

For all those years, I've learned to be content with what is given to me, to be content with the mundanity, and to be grateful for the smallest things. And truly, I have learned to be appreciative of those things, but there is still a part of me that craves to escape.

I do not have much idea what to escape from, truly. Perhaps it is my own family, yet my parents are not that kind of people. Well, they might be crude at times, yet they are most loving. It might be the pressure of being the eldest; I might have unconsciously felt as if I had to make up for the broken dreams of my parents or the flaws they have.

Or maybe it is my relatives—truly the most toxic ones I know. They belittle, insult, and manipulate. However, I do not want to spend my time and energy on such irrelevant people.

Is it my friend? But I deeply appreciate them. I truly love them, and I very much enjoy spending time with them, especially when I am this picky about my circle.

My environment, maybe? I am most certain it is one of the factors. I grew up with mostly narrow-minded people, from a small town with nothing much big to put their attention to. I have been much of a victim, which is why my confidence is something I work on to this day. Yet I had already been in a different city, and it was different, of course.

Yet there is still an underlying desire to escape. Seeing people one is familiar with might be exciting for other people. But I mostly feel suffocated. I do not wish to constantly see those present. I often want to escape this place, as if I'm stuck. I feel chained.

There's that feeling where my stomach just churns over the fear that I might spend my life feeling stuck wherever I am right now. It doesn't sit well with me; I still feel as if I'm being chained into a chair of insanity where I cannot do anything but watch, like I have been secluded to never escape this kind of world.

I have never felt more freedom than I felt restricted. I have never been comfortable enough to show myself—the truest self. It frightened me that I might spend my years hiding the person I truly am if I remained in the same place where I had been withering with stagnancy most of the time.

It is often that I want to destroy the chains that keep me in place with both my bare hands and run away, perhaps to another place where I am most comfortable becoming myself. So I would not feel disgusted about the person I project into the world, nor would I feel as if I were stripping away bits and pieces of my individuality.

The future I envision is a place where I am most fulfilled and content. An image of myself as my most enlightened and accepting version. One who is unaffected and comfortable with herself. One who is unafraid to show herself and her creativity to the world. Perhaps my desire to move to a different city is because I truly want to start over and turn a new leaf in my life.

To be reborn similarly to a phoenix, to be rid of all that negativity and unhealed parts of myself, though I am most certain I will continuously be on a healing journey, to ensure that my depth is reflected in my individuality and that my progress continues despite the obstacles that may overwhelm me in the future.

Perhaps my version of freedom is to start over and show up as the highest version of myself at my peak potential.

I am fixed on reaching that freedom, and I will willingly let myself indulge in the restrictions so I may even heighten my desire for freedom itself. Not to be much of a masochist, but to build a much-improved immunity towards the worst until I have reached my best.

In the future, my fate is unquestionable. I will be free and successful, and I will crawl my way, even if it means living in this stagnancy or this entrapment.

I will never waver, and I will draw to the skies of the universe using my bare hands to dazzle my struggles as a mark that I have made my way to my envisioned reality. I have now freed myself from the chains that hold me back from my authenticity, and I have finally reached my version of freedom.

And I will finally know what freedom is like.

love lots,

aru.