A fugitive of my own making
I feel like a fugitive on the run away from the reality of life and its expectations. I embrace and loathe the freedom of choice at the same time. I want to be backed to a corner where I can throw my arms up in resignation and yield to the mercy of the circumstance. I want to be told that there is absolutely no choice and THIS is what you HAVE to do. There is no way around it.
Yet, I am blessed, or if I can be given the permission to be wilful with my choice of words, cursed with the freedom of choice of how I live my life. The power to choose, has over the years, bred an infidel attitude towards life and the license to shun any commitments laid out ahead of me. The truth is, I hate to choose for the fear of making the wrong choices. Or ironically. maybe I have already made a choice to not choose to commit to a choice, but rather be led along by what life unravels.
A philosophical take on following the flow of life and embracing life as it transcends, or just a poetic mask over the absence of courage to commit and be responsible for one's decision? I always feel the constant urge to run, away from stability for the fear of it becoming reality, away from stagnation for the fear of feeling 'this is it'. Or 'is this it'. I live in the hope of believing there is more, to life and my existence. Are the dilemmas in my life, scenes I have cheorographed for dramatisation to convince myself that my life is more than what I perceive it to be?
A person who is free physically, but imprisoned mentally is still incarcerated. The capacity to imagine and dare dream alternatives can become an obligation to continually do so for the fear of appearing mediocre. You can be a fugitive from life, but it is hard to be a fugitive of your own thoughts for, that is an integral part of oneself and the essential ingredient of defining your own existence.
So, what do I really want?
I fear I do know the answer, but have no courage to confront it.