Never Accept The Terms Without Reading!

Heads up dear reader! I was aiming for humor, but might’ve wandered into darker territory. You’ve been warned! Snacks recommended.

Great fiction has a sneaky way of pulling you out of your comfort zone. It makes you sit with uncomfortable thoughts, question the world around you, and reexamine life, existence, and everything in between. And lately, my brain’s been stuck on one of those big head-scratchers, cue Braveheart screaming into the wind, bagpipes wailing in the background….yep, that kind of freedom.

They say we’re born free, but as we grow older, our understanding of freedom starts to knot itself into nothing less than expectations, responsibilities, and all the "shoulds" we never signed up for. Somewhere along the way, it becomes harder to tell what freedom really means, or if we ever truly had it to begin with. (Sorry Rousseau, we might be on different pages here).

A binding Contract

Oh yes, let’s talk about that. Imagine this: freedom as a lifetime contract, issued at birth (welcome to earth, tiny human! No pressure, but we might expect great things from yah!). No terms disclosed, no signatures required. Just a vague promise that you’re free to be whoever you want. Sounds cute, right?

At first, it feels like a blank page, full of wonder, playtime, and zero consequences. You don’t even have to pick a favorite toy, here, try them all! Freedom!! Life is good….

But then, almost sneakily, the fine print starts to appear. You didn’t read that part did yah? Yeah, neither did we.

Suddenly, it’s: must behave. Must smile politely when relatives pinch your cheeks. Must not talk back. Must ace school. Must pick a hobby. Must discover your life’s passion by 16. Must be impressive, but not too loud about it. Must succeed but modestly. Must keep it together at all times. And before you know it, you’re signing off on every clause like it’s an Apple Pay subscription: double-click, look at the camera, and voilà, contract accepted. Freedom? Oh, that’s just "doing what’s expected but making it look like a fierce, self-empowered choice."

And just when you think you're done? Nope. The contract auto-renews. Annually.

New clauses roll in like software updates, some old ones disappear too, but they’re usually replaced by something even more confusing.

At 18, you unlock "must have a 5-year plan." By 25, it’s "must be thriving on social media while also pretending not to care about social media." At 30? Gets a bit more serious with "must own property, must start a family, must get promoted, must stay in shape, must make healthy choices"…

And all the while, that shiny promise of freedom starts to feel more like a 7-day trial, loaded with pop-up ads, hidden fees, and one big catch: "you can do whatever you want… as long as it makes sense to everyone else."

Terms & Conditions

Now, take a breath…. That binding contract? Yeah, we all signed it. But here’s the trick; all contracts can be negotiated! Beneath every rigid rule is a loophole waiting to be found. There’s always fine print in the fine print, if you know where to look!

You just have to lawyer up, and by that, I mean start asking questions. Get curious. Bend the rules. Reclaim your version of freedom (or what’s left of it at least) clause by clause.

Who said you can’t switch careers at 35? That trifold brochure from 2002 telling you to "find stability in a sensible career"? Clause denied!

Think passion and paycheck can’t coexist? Rewrite that damn clause. People are making six figures reviewing hotel pillows on Youtube.. Six. Figures. Think parenting means sacrificing your identity? Nope. Amend accordingly: you can read fairy tales by night and scream at death metal shows on the weekend. Sneak in a whole paragraph for emotional therapy disguised as ice cream and painfully bad chick flicks. Footnote your need for silence after 8 p.m. Non-negotiable. Underline your right to cry in the shower, in the car, or quietly by the frozen peas at the grocery store. No questions asked. No explanation required.

Because if you’re going to live by a contract, make damn sure it’s one you actually like. Edit it. Annotate it. Negotiate the hell out of it. Add in some motivational stickers and funky Jibbitz, and go the extra mile!

Disclaimers Alright, here comes the fun part…. Time to throw in some disclaimers! Yes, as many as you want. Why? Because these are your "get out of life-jail" cards. The fine print gems that allow you to wing it and still call it growth. Sprinkle them everywhere. They're how you remind the universe (and yourself) you’re not signing up for martyrdom. They can be as random, honest, or oddly specific as you need.

You might go with something like: Disclaimer: Productivity may vary depending on snacks and mood. Or: Disclaimer: Sometimes "what are you doing with your life?" is just a rude question. I reserve the right not to answer. Or maybe even: Disclaimer: Changing your mind isn’t flaking. It’s evolving.

Whatever fits. Just make sure it sounds like you, not some random "life coach".

Redlines

Alright, now watch your step. Not everything is as harmless as those disclaimers you scattered like emotional confetti. There are a few sneaky clauses hiding in your life contract that you absolutely did not agree to (pretty sure this entire contract was drafted without my consent, but sure, "a few").... No worries though, this is your moment to go full red-pen renegade.

Happiness = success? Strike it out with a fat red Sharpie. Doodle over it. Add flames, and maybe a passive-aggressive post-it that says "nice try".

Adulthood means knowing what you’re doing? Absolutely not. Cross it out, write "still winging it" in glitter gel pen, and move on.

You have to explain every big life choice to your aunt over lunch. Strike that out aggressively. The sentence and the aunt (figuratively speaking of course). Wrap it up with "this is how it’s done" and an optional mic drop.

Closing Signature

But in the end, even with all the redlines and disclaimers you’ve scribbled in the margins, you realize the contract was never really yours to begin with. It was drafted by tradition and expectations, edited by family and all those who thought they knew what was best for you, formatted by society, and shaped by fear, guilt, and the pressure to lead a "meaningful life" (whatever that means).

So now? Pick up that pen and fight fire with …. well, glitter, stickers, unapologetic post-its and dangerously red sharpies! Make it messy. Make it honest. Make it yours!

Because freedom is never handed over my friend. It’s always reclaimed, clause by renegotiated clause. And if you do it right? Who knows, you just might get to live by your own terms.

Signed,

Certified rule-bender. Fine print editor. Highlighter of loopholes. Freedom enthusiast.

Catch you in next year’s redraft. Over and out.