I have recently discovered that “Free Bird” is apparently my theme song.
And I mean the whole damn song.
Especially that guitar.
There should probably be a warning label attached to “Free Bird”:
DO NOT LISTEN WHILE ATTEMPTING TO GO TO SLEEP.
Because you will not be going to sleep.
You’ll start out lying there peacefully, thinking you’re winding down for the evening. Then that guitar kicks in and suddenly it’s 2:17 in the morning, your eyes are wide open, you’ve redesigned your website, outlined three books, invented a company, considered moving to another country, and written down seventeen ideas that apparently could not wait until daylight.
If you’re a creator, forget it.
Sleep has officially been canceled.
But somewhere underneath that magnificent musical ambush is the one idea that gets me every damn time:
I can’t change.
There it is.
Years of personal development, self-reflection, questionable decisions, spectacular recoveries, and enough life experience to qualify for my own congressional hearing—and Lynyrd Skynyrd strolls in and summarizes the situation.
I cannot change.
Well, technically, I can change.
I can change countries. I can change my number. I can change the locks. I can change my flight. I can change my mind halfway through a conversation and decide I no longer wish to participate in whatever fresh fuckery has been presented before me.
What I apparently cannot change is the underlying operating system.
Sarcastic?
Factory installed.
Asshole?
Premium package.
Ability to give a fuck about things that deserve absolutely none of my available fucks?
That feature has been permanently discontinued.
Maybe personal growth was never supposed to turn me into some endlessly agreeable person who smiles politely while the world performs interpretive stupidity directly in front of me.
Maybe growth is knowing exactly who I am—and installing better boundaries around the property.
I’m still going to raise an eyebrow.
I’m still going to ask the uncomfortable question.
And occasionally, I’m still going to say the thing everybody else was thinking but had enough home training not to say aloud.
That is simply the bird I have become.
Free?
Absolutely.
Housebroken?
Debatable.
Changing?
Apparently not.
Now somebody hit that fucking guitar.
— Escaping the L’Orange Era
