What is freedom?

“what is freedom???” every single person has there own way to answer this.  if  i portrait it in my way, it should be like running out of my house and never coming back. yes, in my own home i’m a prisoner infact a slave.

ever since i grew up, all i knew is that i can’t do anything that my family don’t want me to. i can’t wear anything my mom don’t like. i can’t make friends which my brother don’t approve. i can’t take any subject that my father thinks is not good enough for him to brag about. and i can’t marry someone, that my mom hasn’t chose for me no matter what kind of prince is he. So, this is my life. i grew up like this, but don’t think I’m a sad face with lots of tears to wipe from eyes. I have always been a girl my friends says, ” a cute-bubbly-understanding-and-friendly”.  the funny part is, my family thinks the exact opposite! how do you feel, when people says that family understands you well than anyone in the world because they’re your blood mate when you clearly know that things don’t turn out the same for you? i feel awful. i feel as if i don’t relate them… my mom didn’t give birth to me and my dad never wanted me.

In my country, i can’t just decide to step out of the house with baggage. no one allows a single unmarried girl to live in their houses not even for rent. and the street-side is everywhere same– at day you can survive, but you don’t notice how many hawks have their eyes on you to tear you apart at night!!

even though i hate it here, i have to stay. i have to be here till any guy comes and marry me and take me with him. I’ve  lived long for them…. now, i want the freedom to live for myself!!!!

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