but

I've been having my share of freedom for quite a long time now. I remember that I used to look forward to the day I could actually do whatever I wanted to do, and go wherever I wanted to go without any kind of restriction. and then, when freedom finally came, it stroke me out of nowhere, leaving me unarmed and barehanded - but most of all: free. I didn't know how to manage it at first, so it's pretty clear that I fucked up things big time repeatedly until I figured out how I could keep all kinds of consequences to myself. it took me sometime to figure out that you can always cross some sort of line and screw things up even when you're free. and how is that line even drawn?. I've been wandering around these places, you know, trying to listen carefully to every single word that my friends spit out, trying to find some kind of answer or empathy towards my recent thoughts about my so-called freedom. But then again, I always come back home mentally empty and isolated. It's frustrating - to say the least - to watch how people imply the conclusion that they're also free when they draw an opinion or a plan, but they never try to go deep into it. they never question anything about their personal freedom itself - it's just there. am I the only one who's crazy enough to care about it?  I just can't stop asking myself why. I just can't.