Do you know what freedom is today? It’s that sign hung everywhere: “You choose!” You choose the brand of toothpaste, you choose the takeout for lunch, you choose how to organize your day— and then you end up with a packed schedule, an empty wallet and, just in case, an app reminding you to breathe. They sell you freedom like it’s a subscription: monthly, yearly, with automatic renewal. But in the end, did you really choose? Or are you just a spectator applauding your own online cart? They tell me, “You’re free to change your life!” and I change my profile, face, and friends list. They preach critical thinking, yet my feed is swamped with ads. I can shout my opinion, as long as it stays under 280 characters, and then? The filter turns it into a meme, alas. Convenient freedom—you take it in installments, with loyalty discounts and collateral ads. A thousand choices, enough to make your head spin, yet in the end you pick what costs less and convinces you fast. Is it satire, you say? No—it’s a mirror. And do you look? Or do you scroll away like it’s a kitten video? I have the freedom to vote every four years, but the party sends me an SMS every week. I can choose my doctor or my bank, but both remind me of their opening hours. I have the guaranteed right to speak, but there’s already a sponsored podcast for me. They want me to express myself, as long as I stay within their format. Convenient freedom—they tailor it to fit, one-size-fits-all with fine-print clauses. You think you’re driving, but the road is pre-mapped, and the GPS thanks you for the free ad. Yet true freedom can’t be bought, can’t be branded, has no barcode. It’s that moment you choose not to choose, turn off the screen, and watch the sunrise unfiltered. But those who sell it don’t want you to find it there: too much competition, folks— better a three-pack freebie. They gave us a world of windows, but never taught us how to open them. We have technical freedoms and protocols, yet forget the sound of the wind. We’re free to fly, but afraid of the height. We’re free to dream, yet must reserve space in advance. Convenient freedom, you sit comfortably on our shoulders, but real freedom doesn’t count clicks, doesn’t beg for likes, has no sponsors. It’s a little secret we share each morning when we open our eyes and decide not to open an app.