As her eyes opened, she realised life. And life included many people. Two were important, a mother who fed her and a father who brought the stuff to feed her with. And her journey began, into a vast void with no directions.
All her life till date two things remained constant, one were the people that kept adding and subtracting, and the other was the ticking of the clock. Beyond this nothing made sense. She understood it all, but nothing made sense. She saw others singing and dancing, talking and listening, jumping and flying, but none of it made sense. The clock ticked on.
The people in her life told her to do something, be something. They said she was a fish, they said she was a bird, they said she was a dog, and was asked to run, swim and fly. She tried everything, and it all seemed the same. She understood the swimming and running and flying, but it didn’t make sense. It was all the same color. And the clock ticked on.
The people decided she was a bird. She seemed the best it in. And thus, she began flying. Flying as much as she could, flying as hard as she could, flying wherever she was told to. She was better than most. She made it that way. It was difficult as people were not satisfied, as everyone could fly, and she was supposed to be special. Special if not to all the people, but to those who were constant, the mother and the father.
She made a pilot. Finally became special. They praised her, not for her hard work, but for being a pilot. They looked up to her, and also looked down on her. She was different yes, but special no more. They praised her, but never admired. They talked about her, but never meant it. The colors became darker, and the clock ticked on.
It was all so grey. It was all so confusing. She loved them, and they loved her, but they couldn’t see her, and she them. For the first time in her life, she did not understand, and neither did it made sense.
She struggled, she cried, she rebelled and she fought. But it was still the same, the clock ticked on.
Then, she stopped caring, she stopped following. She decided she was her own person, she was free. Free as in like a real bird. Free to go anywhere and be anything. Free to see anything and think anything. Free from the parents, the relatives, the friends, the responsibilities, the vices, the peer pressure, the trend, the style, the appearances, and the world. It all didn’t matter now, what mattered was only her. Only she.
She remained honest to herself, and who she was. She put on her clothes and left to be herself. Somewhere down the road, it all made sense. The dancers and runners and actors and jumpers, they all made sense.
They all made sense, as she understood herself. She understood herself because she let go of the world. She let go of the world, because she wanted to be free.
Real freedom. Real.
The clock ticked on.