Freedom

"Is it best to act as if they don't exist, even though none of them are actually real?" - "Freedom" written by Clarisa Rebecca Winata, read by Karen Olivia. Read the full version here: Long enough was I imprisoned by the so-called saints I sought for a way out, yet the shackles held me back My eyes glanced around the room, searching for a light A light that could help me make out the pitch-black darkness Penetrating deep into my skin, the shackles dug through my veins Yet somehow it all became painless, as I finally figured it out The shackles were only figments of my imagination Deeply ingrained not into my skin, but into my consciousness Nothing was real, it was then I found the liberty I had longed Sweet liberty, how delightful it was to be a free being Nevertheless, the memories still find a way to haunt me To disrupt my peace, my stability, and my self steered sovereignty I keep telling myself to ignore them, they're not real But they keep on taunting me, day and night, all week long It's starting to look like they might never fully go away Thus I now try to spite them away, look at me, I'm free! They no longer have any authority over me I collect pieces of my freedom and cherish them deeply Look at what I've done, and there's nothing they can do to stop me Then again, who are they to waste my time and energy Is it best to act as if they don't exist, even though none of them are actually real?

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