Freedom

How does it feel to be born in the nineteenth century, or the early to mid twentieth century? Or, even in today’s world to a set of parents who do not give as much importance to an individual’s freedom of thought as mine do?
How does it feel to have your ability to do something, to take a course of action, be restricted, no, be removed, by an outdated mindset?
How does it feel when the only options available are: be true to your own self and be subjected to a lot of vitriol and self doubt, or be true to the times and die in your heart?
I have this question often… When I read history books, when I listen to folks of my parents’ generation talk about their marriages and their lives in general, when I see a certain individual’s reactions to their daughter deciding to marry a person of her choice…
I have had this question often… I never thought I would have the opportunity to find out the answer… (God, I wish I never had.)
Let me tell you, it is stifling…
It is maddening… 
It makes you feel like a minute grain of sand and an elephant in an arena full of spectators at the same time…

It also made me decide that I would rather face vitriol than wear death on my heart.