The Weight of Freedom. (1 min)

Fly with me,
Get high with me,
Die to me,
Cry with me,
Don’t lie to me,
Don’t rely on me,
No ties to me.

Grayson lit a cigarette, his gaze lost in the horizon. Zoe sat beside him, legs dangling over the ledge. They weren’t tethered by promises or expectations — just the raw energy of the moment.

“Let’s get high,” he said, taking a drag.

“High on what?” Zoe asked, smirking.

“Everything that isn’t this,” he gestured around them — life, the grind, the masks they wore. “Let’s fly, Zoe. No relying on anyone, not even each other.”

Zoe looked into his eyes. “No ties, no lies, no masks?”

Grayson nodded. “Die to who we think we are. Let it all go. It’s the only way to feel alive.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “Then what? After the highs, after the escape?”

“We cry. We cry together for all the things we let go, but we don’t hold on. We don’t hold back.”

Zoe’s heart raced. She felt the pull of freedom and fear. She opened her eyes and asked, “But if we die to ourselves... who’s left?”

Is true freedom found in detachment, or is it in the connections we are willing to risk losing?

#thinkgod
I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.