...how many times do i have to dream i could be there?...

.goodbye.

SQ218, July 2009

So this is how freedom feels like.

No expectations, no regrets.

Nothing to keep me from going, from letting loose.

I used to convince myself that I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. That conforming to whatever the others believed in was my only key to universal acceptance. I used to turn a blind eye to subjective opinions and stay firm in acknowledging that being perpetually nice was the norm, and that passing pointed judgments about others could be rightfully justified for everyone but me simply because I wasn't good enough to be allowed otherwise.

How foolish I was to believe that my saving grace rested on the warm comforts of my socials. This is far, too far from the truth. My eyes were blinded, my ears tight shut; I was oblivious to the central essence of it all because my soul was lonely and I ever wanted was company.

I have realized that everything was but a giant fucking mistake.

Now the heavy, rusting chains around my feet, made of unending demands and bottled-up rage, can no longer drag me down. My soul has been liberated. And damn, this feels good.

No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more compromising, no more endless dispositions.

It's time for me to soar. It's time for my dreams to bloom, like the pretty flowers of spring.

I have let myself fly, away, higher than the sky.

And once I've crossed over, past that mystical, colorful arc with its glittering pots of gold, I promise will never look back.

So don't miss me.

'Cuz I sure as hell won't waste my time trying to miss you.

...Ah.

So this is how freedom feels like.