Of Freedom

Thinking about freedom brings me seeing this cliche picture of perfect summer day in location X, driving (not me)  open-top car on a highway with bunch of friends. Where we started or where we end up doesn’t matter. We can go anywhere and we might have started anywhere. There is nothing to think about, and we can think anything. There’s no guarantee or expectations of tomorrow or months from that moment.

That’s my (cliche) definition for freedom, if I am just to open my mouth and talk of it without thinking a lot. Easy, simple and too perfect to execute. There’s always something nagging in mind, making it uneasy to lean back and enjoy. Plus with reality it’s not that fun driving high speed in a open-top car, there’s all the long hair, make-ups and sun glasses to think of. Although there’s no wind and apparently they’re driving really slow, it’s a highway.

As a teen (gosh, I am deeply fed-up with that word, partly cuz I am still teen) reaching and passing these adult limits, one freedom is that you can do what ever with the money because you’ve earned it yourself. I passed the phase, now I enjoy that I have money on my account so I can buy foods I feel like eating and investing on products I’ve long wished to purchase while I’ll still have money afterwards.

My freedom is that kind of personal freedom, me – just me, I can’t bring freedom to somebody else – the kind of they want – just speaking. I don’t even go there how I view freedom with that “rich-materialized-happy-no-troubles kind of way. You can call me whatever. Maybe I am that what ever, but at least I don’t try to jump into somebody else’s boots, because I know of that I have no clue.

I speak what’s familiar to me, leaving all that – what freedom really is for somebody smarter than me, which can be basically anybody but me. I know that my definition of freedom here is not as wide as it goes, because hell nobody cares to read that. I unrevealed little of my rich-materialized-happy-no-troubles view ( don’t you love the word as much as I do), I know what my view defecates and I own my view. Panda


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s