Being Honest With Fiction

And ah, to you dear Freedom.I love you so . . . I am here to separate myself and disconnect from the powers that be. I am here to break away from the captors, and down to the mild to moderate the thefts of service, and all the way to the wardens who have mutually imprisoned me, I am here to create distance from the weight and the heaviness that holds the spirit down.I am here to let go and rid myself from all the above, like the sandbags to the hot air balloons which signify the hopes of my brand new life.I am here to use this as my springboard and like the launchpads in the wild and vast clearings, I am here to let each baloo go, one by one, so they can fly.Lift off . . . America,I am here. I am awake now, early in the morning too, and perhaps I am too late in the game to make a change that I would find satisfying. Maybe I lost the ability to pull off my trick and my magic is no longer strong enough to free my soul.This could be true,“Too little too late,” is a real saying.I can see…