If I stared this blog when I was small, most of the posts would very much be like this...wishing that I'm somewhere else, far and away with all the freedom in the world.
They say not to give a kid too much of freedom lest it will get to their heads and be spoilt and such. But keeping me in is not a solution either.

I am always on the inside looking outside, thinking about how much fun I could have if I could just be right there, be it alone or with a friend or two. All the places that I want to go, things that I want to do...will never be done unless, somehow I can show that I am no longer a child or some helpless little girl who people can take advantage of.

I jump at any chance to go to my friends' houses, to spend a day out and about with them. Even if I had to make up a story or two to cover up for my tardiness and such. I cannot just sit there and not do a thing about not having fun, could I? So, I have been lying since young. Telling tales that never happened.

I have sinned much. Each time I tell a tale, my soul is tainted black with lies and pretend. I can never turn back now. I do not want to go back the way it was before either, where my fun is only confined within these four walls or whatever walls that happen to imprison me, restraining me from my freedom and fun that I might have.

Girls my age must have gone out much more times than me, out with their friends or cousins. I am not as free as some people think. Brought up in a rather strict environment, friends that I make get criticized and much of the things I do get frowned upon. My character may be carved out by all these restrictions and little freedom that I get and made me slightly different from others...maybe not.

People need to open their eyes and see the brighter side of things and see that the world is not that bad as it seems. Being blinded by beliefs or sayings is not going to get you the big picture. We have to keep our minds open and learn to let go - even if it hurts.

I dream of the day that I can be trusted and be free like wild horses galloping on the meadows or an eagle soaring out into the sunset.

For now, I stay bounded like a puppet to the puppeteer who used strings of titanium, ensuring that I would never leave unless released... ...

Labels: Heart, Writing