Veridis Quo

Chapter 59 - Where Is My Mind?

I never liked zoos. Did I go to one during my childhood? I couldn't remember if a gazillion bucks were on the line. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, but I didn't have to visit a place to form an opinion on it. I disliked zoos not because of the obnoxious people that went there to mess with the animals, or the animals themselves and the stench of a simulated wilderness, or the overpriced trinkets some Asian kid made for a couple cents in Bing Bong Tong.

My issue with zoos all around the world stemmed from management. Specifically, the mistreatment of animals. Now, I wasn't an advocate for anything, poachers were idiots because dying to a predator in the wild is one painfully loud kick to the bucket. To the point, I didn't like the idea of imprisoning wild animals for the viewing pleasure of the masses. There were exceptions like those raised by humans and those who could not return to the wild because of medical complications.

I rather leave animals in the wild, where they belong, far away from human society. Let them be! As long as they did not disturb us, why disturb them? And if a bear jumped a bunch of hikers and mauled them, then you had the right to exterminate the local population! Extinction? I call that natural selection. Humans were part of nature, no? When one species kills another, it's natural!

...

What the fuck was I even on? Who cares? Me? Certainly...! Maybe...

Why did it come to mind in the first place? Zoos, something about caged beings- Ah! Right.

As I firmly believed every being deserved to be happy and free, so did I.

Why wasn't I?

In modern society, true freedom did not exist. Paying taxes, going to work, studying for a degree, taking care of a terminal loved one, managing a company; responsibilities. They shackled the spirit, anchored the soul to the material world. Buddhism has something to say about this, too bad I wasn't knowledgeable about their teachings. All I knew was that some more liberal sects fancied the use of relaxing plants to mediate and do other hippy shit.

In a sense, it was all make-belief. What stopped you from throwing your computer out the window, grabbing a weapon and rushing the nearest orphanage to reunite them with their parents? Nothing! Absolutely na-da!

Except the law, rules, a healthy conscience, retaliation and most importantly, jail.

Prison wasn't a fun place. Anyone who says otherwise was either a top champ, a bottom receiver, had connections, served a very brief sentence or was actually deranged.

The loss of freedom, however illusionary, wasn't a change anyone would welcome with open arms. Want to go out for a joyride? Too bad, I got the car keys~ What's that? You have a date with a cutie? It's past your bedtime, better luck next time~ Yes, that includes her, bedtime is universal.

Yet, I'd like to take back what I said. Freedom was, whether you liked it or not, subjective. One man's violated rights were another man's privileges. Ignoring the rules of society, everyday burdens, money's hold on the world, and the rampant corruption throughout history, freedom wasn't defined in stone.

You had to find your own. Like happiness, only the self can make a whole. However shitty life could be, the losses great or null, tragedy, comedy – it was life. And if one looked at the right places, there it was; happiness, waiting just around the corner with a bottle of champagne while freedom revved the engine of survival.

I searched for mine. I looked everywhere, every stone turned, blankets overthrown again and again, television smashed in a blind fit of rage. In hindsight, destroying my only source of entertainment was a dumbass move but try telling that to a light, sleep, and peace-starved me.