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freedom knows.

freedom knows all the ways she was not free, for how long, and all the ways she may never be. freedom sees the cords on your wrists and the gag in your mouth. all the ways you are not free. and she does not have the key; she can only describe it. so if one day you happened to see it, you’d recognize it and choose it willingly.

freedom stands outside the prison yard. that’s why when it rains, it pours. and when the sun shines down, it burns. because nothing protects her anymore. there is no shelter when you become free. nothing but your own skin.

freedom means you now have to build your own house and live in it, too. freedom means figuring out and choosing the unknown, which is fine until you realize you won’t know what it costs until it’s time to pay. and even as the toll is exacted, the reward has yet to unfold. does this flower bloom now or later? is this a fruit that fails to ripen? you won’t know until you’re outside, on your own, close enough to wonder, now that it finally matters.

because it’s really hard to become free and stay free. even if you do everything you can, it still might not be enough. and even if it is, there are consequences. freedom is a lot. freedom can be heavier than chains.