Over the years dragging though life with hours and hours of mindless daydreaming, I sort of accepted the fact that the way I saw the world was unique. I’m not implying that I’m exclusive, just that everyone has a different comprehension of everything around us due to the unique ways we perceive reality, based on my opinion of course. I mean, who am I to say we don’t live in a world suppressed by the “1%” to fall in order like ants? But it does seem like that, doesn’t it.

“We institutionalized beings are sucked in, drained of our individuality, taught to fear inadequacy and spat out on the other side.”

I’m not as depressing and pessimistic as I am coming across. I actually tend to just live this life of rebellion over anything. The whole initiation process to be either a “Martha” or “Handmaid” in Atwood’s novel made me think about how that reflects on our modern society. And if anything, it reminded me of my experience moving from high school to university. Adolescence for me was a time of waiting. A time where I reflected on everything I had and hadn’t accomplished to determine how the rest of my life would play out. It was just scary knowing that everything I knew and understood would soon be ripped from under me and I would be thrown into a whole new way of existing known as adulthood. But the problem was I was absolutely terrified of the future; as detrimental to my mentality as my life sounded, I feared adulthood would be worse. The saddest part of all was that I was complacent. What drove me to the edge of insanity with its unjustified inadequacy was also what made my life comfortable. I was happy, not because I was satisfied with the mundane existence I was carving out for myself, but because it was reliable; I had a routine that may have unsettled me at times, but it kept me going.

But this is it: real, raw, live freedom.  Not so much stage in life but an opportunity to make the path to wherever you really want to be. You either kick and crawl till you’ve made it or you have fun and accept what life offers you. And to be honest, I don’t think there could be a wrong answer. Life is what you make out of it, I guess.

I don’t even know if I’m making any sense.

This is what happens when you give my mind a blog.