Imagine Freedom

Look through the nearest window. What do you see?
You see a place where you could be. Throw your arms in the air.
Shout.
Shout louder.
Shout as loud as you can, just because you're free and you can.
You're more free than a bird in a cage, than a child in a crib, than a person caring about what others think. You're more free than a flower in a vase, than a hair tide in a tail than a woman in high heels.
You're as free as you think, as beautiful as the mirror tells you, only you and no one else.
Just because you're behind locked doors, in a wheelchair, with no sight, does not mean you're not free! As long as you are not close-minded, and if you can IMAGINE it, than you can be free.

Imagine. There is not a thing in this world more powerful than our imagination. Why? Because it is unlimited. It is untamed. It is beautiful and endless.

Whatever we want, whatever we wish, we can have. Our imagination is what gets us going, what keeps us going. It is our greatest weapon and most powerful shield.

Our imagination is the way we see ourselves, and if we want others to see us in the same light, we have to let our imagination out and let it be seen by others.

Use your imagination in any way you want, because you CAN and because you SHOULD. It's your gift and nobody else's and you mustn't waste it.
Be creative.
Be free.
It's your time to shine.

Cicmila

The Second Chance

I was a sad person. Most of all, I wanted to die.
I remember going on the bus. I sat on a seat next to a window, and I soon fell asleep.
The next thing I remember, there was this excruciating pain, I think a thousand pieces of glass were stabbing me form all sides.
Then there was just nothing. There was me, without any pain. But there was nothing more. I was dead.
But...
No! How? There is so much I didn't do!
I never told that special one how I feel, even if there was never a "right time".
I didn't say I'm sorry to the one I hurt.
I've never heard my favorite band  perform.
I didn't tell all my friends how much they really mean to me, I just pretended I didn't care, when, actually, I don't know how I would manage without them.
I didn't find out all the things I wanted to learn, nor did I master all the skills I wished for.
I didn't finish the drawing that has been laying under my bed for weeks.
I didn't help out the ones most dear to me.
I didn't get rid of my fears and doubts.
I didn't repay the ones I owe, nor did I thank the ones who wanted nothing for the help they gave.
I have so much thoughts I want to share with the world! Please let me go back!
I wish to go...

 - Go where?

Go LIVE. All I ask, is for another chance to live.

Cicmila

The Controversial Keys, part 2

Part 1(read, if you haven't, because the story continues): http://storytimewithcicmila.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-controversial-keys-part-1.html

...

I wasn't allowed to touch the piano until I was in highschool, and even then it was not a simple procedure. Well, that was my first encounter with the piano that I wasn't afraid to play the notes. My music teacher must have noticed my love for music, because she would always stay a bit longer after class to teach me.

It wasn't much, and in the period of four years I did not learn more than a few songs, but every time I would play them, something new would wake inside of me.

So the moment has come for me to choose where I wish to continue my studies. I, of course, knew what I wanted, but I knew uncle would never approve. I've already made peace with the fact that my parents won't be coming back from the trip, so I didn't want uncle to be against me, not in any way.

Thinking back on it, at that point my uncle's opinion mattered more than anything to me. He's the one who had always taken care of me, the one I had grown up with.

I didn't have many friends growing up, I was more of a lone wolf, always lost in my thoughts, thinking of what kind of adventures my parents were going thorough. They were in the jungle, climbing mountaintops or swimming though the Nile.

I apologize, I've wandered off...

Even if I didn't have any friends, I was never lonely. I didn't miss friends, but I didn't push them away if they would approach me.

So, friends weren't tying me to any place, and I was of legal age to take care of myself, so the idea I got one day after school seemed as good as it gets.

I was to move back to my hometown and since the apartment I once lived in was long sold, I would try to get a scholarship in a music academy, to live and learn there.

It happened just the way I imagined it, but it wasn't until years later that I found out that my music teacher who had written the letter of recommendation was a former headmaster of the academy. So,I guess I didn't know that well back then about music.

Nevertheless, I was there for two years before I realized how good I actually am. That was when I was moved to a class that was a whole year ahead. That's when I met him.

Cicmila

Grey

It's dark and grey. The whole world, washed out of color. The people, washed out of emotions.

A grey girl with a grey scarf walks past a grey boy, with a grey cap.

A man sits on a grey bench, next to a grey stone.

A grey sky, with a grey sun. Grey birds, silent. The grey world, lost.

A grey girl in a grey room, with a grey notebook opened before her. A grey pen in her hand. A grey bow on her head. She wishes to write, but the past four notebooks she could fill with only one thing: emptiness. She dreams of something more, but there's nothing more to dream of. 

Or... What if there is?

She ran to her bedside table and opened one of the drawers. Inside, a grey candle in a jar. She took it out, putting it on the table near the window. She lit the candle, shining out bright, grey light. She took her grey pen and started writing.
Her hand was flying over the papers in all directions, writing out words she didn't know the meaning of. Then she took the papers, folded them, and put them in the candle jar.
It burned, oh how it burned! In colors of red and orange, yellow and pink! Oh how it burned!
Then the wind blew from the window, swirling around the room, getting in the jar and out, carrying the ash with it.
It flew.
The girl opened her eyes, and lost her breath. Her rosy skin, green eyes and pink cheeks were looking back at her from the reflection in the window.
Hope. Happiness.

It flew.
The old man spotted a red rose and picked it up, placing it next to the silver stone. "Goodbye, my love. I will see you soon", he says.
Freedom. Trust. Loyalty. Strength.

It flew.
A girl ran to catch the red scarf that got carried away by the wind. It lands before the feet of a boy with a yellow cap. He picks it up for her. "Is it yours?", he asks. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you.", the girl replies. "Please, it was my pleasure. My name is...."
Beauty. Confidence. Love.

It flew.
The sun shining with unimaginable colors, the blue sky and colorful birds singing all around them. The once grey world, now colored. The people once washed out, reborn, full of life, happy.
Color. Emotion. Music. Nature.

It flew.
What did it fly over to you?

Cicmila