What then does it mean for one to have full control of their lives? Does them possessing the ability to decide as to whether or not they will commit an action make them happier in the end? Is freedom really worth anything?

It is known...or assumed...throughout the world that one who is encaptured desires freedom, and that one who lives without it will find an unbearable yearning within them to possess it. Yet is this the truth? For when we possess our freedom do we not make our own mistakes-mistakes that are oft worse than they might have been had we been under the power of one with more wisdom?

Perhaps, then, the reason for our love for having our own power is in the fact that it is less painful to blame oneself rather than others for the action. After all, if you fall, it is better to have fallen of your own will rather than anothers. Yet is this even true? Is not regret the cruelest of all emotions for it bites deep and from within, refusing to heal, and consuming the soul?

Then...what is freedom? It gives us not happiness for those who possess it without wisdom cause themselves and others ruin. It gives us not comfort for what lies on the end after it being abused is nothing but an oblivion of self-torment. Thus all that is left is the assumption that when trapped one will reach for it.

But one always reaches for what they cannot have-tis the habit of humanity.

So what, then, is freedom?