This Is What It Means to Be Free

But also imprisoned, disillusioned, hopeful—and still human.

I, too, am a paradox—much like my nation.

I find human beings both breathtakingly beautiful and unbearably cruel.

I am a proud citizen—and a brainwashed hostage.

I feel both love and rage for my country.

Both pride and shame.

I feel at home, and like I do not belong.

I feel free—and imprisoned.

I consider myself wise, yet often foolish.

Foolish for hoping.

For believing.

For pushing, striving, speaking, and still aspiring toward a truer kind of freedom.

A freedom I’m increasingly convinced may only be fully realized through death.

Not because I am fatalistic.

But because I am futuristic—And, perhaps most of all, realistic.

But mostly, because I am human.

I'd love to know—what contradictions are you learning to hold?Share in the comments, or send a quiet note.We’re all just trying to make sense of the mirror we’re born into.

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