Time for Mutiny

I am out at sea

I am on a voyage

I did not choose to go on this voyage

Someone else chose for me

I don't have a memory of how I got here. I awoke onboard.
when I came round, I just watched and learned
and adapted, and conformed
I got along with ship-life .
I did what the others did.
I slipped myself into the hierarchy of power onboard this ship

But, when seas became rough, and the waves seemed bigger than the ship
I began to question why I was here
I no longer trusted the system
I no longer trusted the captain

Should I jump ship?
Should I instigate a mutiny?
Should I kill the captain?

Of course, some are made to walk the plank before they get a chance to do any of these. Left to fend for themselves.

So much of who we are, was formed in times when we had no understanding, no words, only rudimentary cognition. We were born into the gravity of family [or other institutions]. So much of our character and personality is an effect of our upbringing: a response to the dynamics of living with parents, siblings. Even when we are not with them, we are playing out the rudimentary dramas of relationship, that were scripted before we even learnt to think for ourselves.

I am on this ship. I cannot swim. I do not like how the ship was made, nor the country from which it set sail. I do not like the flag it flies under, nor the crest emblazoned on its sails. I detest the rule of the captain.

Our very existence is an act of disempowerment. We never chose to be alive. Someone else chose these things for us.

How much of who we are is beyond our control? How much of our personality, and our repertoire of emotional habits that we play out compulsively, are merely products of, and responses to, our parent's relational dynamics? To be honest, I don't know if there is anything in me that isn't. If this is true, then what does freedom look like, if not like a mirage in a desert?