The whispering of leaves, a slow drift, the push of the wind, a slow drift, the caress of the sun, a slow drift, the rasp of a breath, a slow drift. Quiet, peaceful, a warm embrace that held me within its arms as I felt everything begin to fade away. My eyes fluttered shut, letting the soft rocking embrace me and sweep me away from everything I thought about, held onto, grasped desperately for what I have been told my whole life is important and should not be let go of. But let go I did. It is a strange feeling to have once you let go, I think. Almost like relief except it is tinged with the faintest shade of fear, something I thought I would feel before letting go. No, it is after the release that the fear takes over, when you come to the realisation you’re free and yet you’re not free. You have let go and escaped the bonds that bind you but you are still within a world that embraces, desperately holds onto, and ties others with those bonds. It is never one person being bound, it is one person in a collective whole that bind each other for near eternity of solitude in a group. A lifetime of wrappings and fastening them to others. Most cultures view the group as most important the safe and correct choice to make, a few righteously shout out for the individual uniqueness to be promoted. But they all tie you down with fetters of belief, culture, expectation, commonality, religion and upbringing.

Release brings its own woes, escape is never escape, the shackles fall and you see the cage, the cage breaks and you see the prison, the prison falls to ruin and you see the unthinking masses staring you in the eye. Your fear cast under their own overwhelming and suppressive horror at the reality of someone desperately clawing their way out of what they consider normal life. Shouted words of admiration for the escape hide veiled hatred for fighting the flow. Stabs from the dark for daring to live as who you are and what you want while porcelain smiles grace stone eyes.

My relief shadow my fear but a shadow there is, and I feel there always will be. The emotion may change, I think it already is as my fear is slowly turning to disgust. I think this will change as well for there is a burning in my chest, the same kind of burning that helped me escape from this matrix of lies I have been slamming against all my conscious life. My path is now my own, I will not walk down the same as those who escaped before me. I am I, me is me. Though I lie on ground now, placed here by those who oppress me, the cold comfort it offers in contrast to the warmth above. I will rise again, and again, and again. Fear not the willing sheep, fear not the mindless sheep, fear those of claim they broke fear. The wolves of stalk the edges, those who went before and came back to revel amidst the flock.