What is a choice, anyway -
is it a freedom, or is it a burden?

For me,
it is a paralysis
between what is and what should be.

Who I am,
who I should be...
who I could be.

Choice opens up possibilities -
endless, unfathomable possibilities.

Choice is making a decision
I am not qualified to make.
In a world where manipulation is rewarded,
marginalisation is profited upon,
and freedom of choice is weaponised -

I’m not sure I feel free.

Where your freedom to choose
now carries with it the responsibilities of greedy oil companies,
tech giants,
and toxic product producers.  

It is the irony of being forced into a system
that tells you:
you chose to be here,
It’s your fault!

You drank the highly addictive Kool-Aid  
we forced down your throat,
and that addiction -
is your fault!

We are persuaded into thinking our choices are casual,
while they are anything but.

I relinquish my freedom to choose.

Instead,

I search for the freedom of simplicity -
where a choice becomes personal once again.

What clothing mood am I in today?
What do I feel like eating this morning?
How shall I spend my Sunday afternoon?
What’s my body telling me about this social interaction?

In lieu of...

Whose opinion should I base my personality on?
What can I justify as a “healthy” amount of time spent on social media?
Which chickens had the happiest lives?
What dishwashing liquid is the least toxic?

Yes -

I crave the simplicity of what is,
not what could be.

Often, I envy the unbothered-ness of the breeze -
sometimes going this way,
sometimes going that way.

Completely unconcerned with the junction between directions -
simply following its set course.

When you did respond,
you told me that you were sorry.
That you were
alive.
I think you understood where my worry came from.

I asked you where you had been,
and you said that you were just doing school and sleeping.
It was another depressive episode.

Oh, well.

I feel bad to feel relieved,
But
It could've been worse.
You could've
Cut too deep
Or stayed in bed
Or skipped your meds
Or taken too many...

You could've
Left me.

I said sorry for being such a bother,
Said that "I hope you feel better."
And even though thats not quite right thing to say,
But I think that's the closest I could've gotten.

I remember, I've done this before,
I was... 10, it was 2020.
I remember, my best friend, Kaydence, wouldn't respond to my texts
for a month.
We had fought,
It was some stupid Minecraft game.
And then, she just
Stopped texting
Back.

I was lonely, it was quarantine after all, and I didn't have no one else to talk to.
I texted her every single day
Cried every single day.
I was being dramatic, obviously,
I'm always so **** dramatic.

When she came back, she acted like nothing had happened.
Her mom had just taken away her phone, or something.
I didn't have to worry.

...I think that month I spent, alone
Thats when it had started to get bad.

I'm sorry, really.
I hadn't meant to bother you by
Messaging you everyday for a week,
Each following one more frantic than the last,
Because you wouldn't respond.

I was scared.
Really, really scared.
Scared that you had done something to yourself...

Scared that, maybe, you
Stayed in bed too long
Cut to deep
Went too many days without eating
Too many days skipping your meds-
Or maybe, took all your skipped pills all at once---

It's irrational, I know.
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, really.
I hadn't meant to bother you by
Messaging you everyday for a week,
Each following one more frantic than the last,
Because you wouldn't respond.

I was scared.
Really, really scared.
Scared that you had done something to yourself...

Scared that, maybe, you
Stayed in bed too long
Cut too deep
Went too many days without eating
Too many days skipping your meds-
Or maybe, took all your skipped pills all at once---

It's irrational, I know.
I'm sorry.

...

I remember, I've done this before,
I was... 10, it was 2020.
I remember, my best friend, Kaydence, wouldn't respond to my texts
for a month.
We had fought,
It was some stupid Minecraft game.
And then, she just
Stopped texting
Back.

I was lonely, it was quarantine after all, and I didn't have no one else to talk to.
I texted her every single day
Cried every single day.
I was being dramatic, obviously,
I'm always so **** dramatic.

When she came back, she acted like nothing had happened.
Her mom had just taken away her phone, or something.
I didn't have to worry.

...I think that month I spent, alone,
Thats when it had started to get bad.

...

When you did respond,
you told me that you were sorry.
That you were
alive.
I think you understood where my worry came from.

I asked you where you had been,
and you said that you were just doing school and sleeping.
It was another depressive episode.

Oh, well.

I feel bad to feel relieved,
But
It could've been worse.
You could've
Cut too deep
Or stayed in bed
Or skipped your meds
Or taken too many...

You could've
Left me.

I said sorry for being such a bother,
Said that "I hope you feel better."
And even though thats not quite right thing to say,
But I think that's the closest I could've gotten.

I'm afraid of failure
Of becoming a burden
But above all, I'm afraid
Of hurting the ones I love
And ending up alone...

Yet I'm here, I've shown
In the face of my demons
And screamed at them
That they'll never take
The very best of me

So I may not be fearless
I'm quite fine with that
For I'm brave

You never asked.
For this burden.

To be their salvation.
To salvage the light.

You grew up in the dark.
Yet you never dulled your spark.

They look to you for answers.
They look to you for hope.

You nurturer you're mind.
Found another way of life.

You learned long ago.
Not everyone can be saved.

Still somehow.
You hope.
You're wrong.

You are a boy.
You are a saviour.

Finding the faintest light.
To keep the spark of hope.
Alive.