Freedom Wall - L.Payne

One: Choices

I felt my hands tremble as I held onto a small pink sticky note in between my fingers. I held onto it not too tightly, scared that I might bring a wrinkle to its clean surface. With my other hand tightly fisting a pen, I felt my thoughts start to acknowledge how I held on to both objects. It was up to me whether I tightened my grip on the paper; crumpling it, or loosening my hold on the pen; giving it more chances to fall off from the tips of my fingers.

My chest rose as I took in some air, like I couldn't seem to get enough of it. My eyes fluttered their way shut, almost automatic, like some reflex. Letting out the air that I've been holding in as well realizing my lack of sight, I reluctantly opened my eyes, immediately darting on what I have been staring at for what seems like an eternity. My clothed legs were tightly pursed up together whilst my converse-covered feet pressed up to one another as I dug my heels firmly on the ground—like they were on a race, except they were both giving way for the other to go first.

From anyone else's point of view, I may have looked like some girl who was too shy to move a muscle on her spot. I'm not. It's just that...what meets the eye of the many, is what they've come to know of me. It's just my choice not to move away from where I stand. But with every choice I make, it would just mean giving access for everyone to judge me; freely, without my knowledge.

Who knows? Someone's mind could be racked up with insults that are ready to be thrown at me like invisible knives. If I move, which direction should I go? Towards what I fear—no, not fear, but more of one of my insecurities—or away from it? This situation is almost just a replay of the exact same situation my mind has been suffocating me about earlier: The paper and the pen in my hands.

My whole body was numb. The only thing I could feel was my heart thumping loudly against my chest as I took my time to decide. My heart was racing like a train off track, going faster and faster. But slowly, the feeling of the piece of paper and the pen came in mind, how the paper was so easy to damage and how the pen had a such rough surface due to its embroidery design.

Should I move?

My legs were shaking as I turned around, my back now facing the direction of where I was supposed to be facing, the Freedom Wall.

I crumpled the paper, balling my hand into a tight fist as I crushed the small blank piece of paper. Blank. Blank like my thoughts. I swiveled my way to the nearest bin and tossed in the crumpled paper.

What a waste. A waste, like the time I took just to end up reneging out.

Coward. That's the perfect way to describe me right now—no, not just now but all the time: too scared to make decisions for myself, too scared to even tell my own best friend that I don't like the things that she forces onto me, too terrified to express myself to anyone. Feel free to call me a chicken, a coward. After all, it is my choice to act however I want. And that means I chose to be a coward.

I twisted my body as I opened up my green camouflage backpack, dropping the pen that I brought out for nothing. Zipping it shut as my feet started to overlap each other with every step, they're actually not hesitating to move this time unlike earlier where I could feel my heels dig into my converse, firmly pressing up on the floor.

My legs led me to the small café, the same one that would always somehow help me gather up my courage. I walked to the bar counter and was warmly greeted by a smile from the female cashier. I pursed my lips up into a smile in return before ordering myself a simple chocolate milkshake. I reached into my bag to pull out my wallet before taking out a dollar and surrendering it over to the cashier, who opened up the cash register with a loud 'Ding!' sound.