There’s an experiment that evenly applies to any creature who absorbs life in all of its shallow aspects.
The experiment involves a grasshopper and a jar. The grasshopper, after countless attempts of escape, eventually gives into the idea that it will never get out of the tightly capped jar. The tester then removes the lid, providing an easily visible exit, but the grasshopper does not leave.
The grasshopper, now completely calm, is convinced that despite the obvious opening, there is no possible way of getting out of the jar due to its memories, pain, and experience from the past attempts and inevitable clash with the cap.
I think that humans are a lot like that, too. Our consistency is indomitable to the extent where we gradually reach incomparable exhaustion. At that point, it doesn’t matter if the door is held open, the hand is given to get back up, or if the finish line is an inch away, we are locked onto what has occurred in the past which we believe will hinder us from reaching the goals that are already within easy grasp.
I tell you that I will drop my walls because I promised that I wouldn’t be a hypocrite, but darling, there were never any walls in the first place. The finish line was always there, the door held wide open, the friendly hand to be grasped. The walls that stand before you were constructed from new experiences of pain, new lessons, and new realizations. There was no lid on the jar in the beginning, but the grasshopper remained all this time, simply because of its desire to be locked in. A reverse transition of the state of mind.
Now isn’t that a twist on a shallow aspect of freedom?