The more I choose, the more I open doors to blame.
The more I want, the more I’m questioned.
The more I do, the more I bear.

Once, I lived unfree,
yet longed for freedom.
But does true freedom exist?

Perhaps one day I’ll be free,
free of responsibility,
free of judgment,
free of mistakes.

Only then could I say:
whatever price I paid for freedom
was nothing but a bargain.

Only then could I be myself,
without consequence.
Only then could I rest,
released from doubt,
released from bad thoughts,
released from the endless choosing.