For years, Ramses had lived like a man in chains,shackled by doubt, paralyzed by fear, weighed down by the endless cycle of self-pity. Even before the coma, life had often felt like a prison of his own making. But now, after everything, after the silence of the frozen world and the painful awakening back into reality, Ramses felt something he had never known before.
Freedom.
Not the shallow kind of freedom he once thought he wanted—the freedom to escape responsibility, to avoid challenges, to hide from the world. No, this was something deeper, purer. A freedom born from discipline, self-awareness, and the courage to live in the present moment.
He woke one morning with the sun spilling across his room. Instead of reaching for his phone to numb himself with distractions, he sat up slowly, breathing deeply, letting the warmth soak into his skin. For the first time, the simple act of being alive was enough to fill him with gratitude.
Everyday life had a rhythm now, one that no longer suffocated him. His therapy sessions became a joy instead of a burden, each step forward a victory rather than a reminder of weakness. His writing grew stronger, his words flowing more freely as he poured his story onto the page. He spent more time with his family, no longer retreating into silence but engaging fully, listening, laughing, and sharing.
It was as if the chains had melted away, leaving him light enough to walk forward without fear.
One afternoon, Ramses went for a walk outside. The air was fresh, carrying the distant hum of life: children laughing, dogs barking, cars passing by. Before the coma, these sounds had often overwhelmed him. But now, they filled him with energy. Each voice, each motion, each reminder of time moving forward was a reminder that he was no longer trapped.
He paused by a small park bench, watching a group of kids chase each other. Their laughter was unfiltered, unguarded. He smiled, realizing that this was the essence of freedom—living without the weight of tomorrow's worries or yesterday's regrets. Living in the now.
Ramses sat down and closed his eyes. Memories of the frozen world resurfaced, but instead of pain, they brought peace. He could still recall the crushing loneliness, the silence that nearly drove him mad. But he also remembered the discipline he built, the strength he discovered, and the inner voice that urged him to keep going.
That was my prison and my training ground, he thought. Now, this is my life.
Later that evening, his father joined him outside their house, sitting on the steps as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"You've changed, anak," his father said quietly. "Not just because you woke up from the coma… but inside. I see it in your eyes."
Ramses looked at him, the words catching in his throat. For so long, he had wanted to prove himself to his family, to show them he wasn't just a failure drifting through life. And now, without forcing it, that change had become visible.
"I guess," Ramses said finally, smiling faintly, "I'm just grateful to have a second chance. I don't want to waste it."
His father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then don't. Live fully. Live well."
That night, Ramses lay awake thinking about those words. Freedom wasn't just about escaping the past—it was about embracing the present with open arms. And for the first time in his life, he felt ready to do just that.
The following days became a testament to his new outlook. He joined family meals without retreating to his room. He laughed more often, unafraid to look foolish. He began journaling about his daily experiences, not just his coma, realizing that every day was a story worth capturing.
Even small things became meaningful. Drinking coffee in the morning felt like a ceremony. Stretching his legs during therapy felt like a privilege. Talking to his younger siblings felt like an opportunity to guide and encourage them, rather than a chore.
This was freedom—not from time, but within time. Not from responsibility, but through responsibility.
One afternoon, Ramses attended a small community gathering with his family. At first, he worried people would see him as fragile, the boy who had almost died. But instead, neighbors greeted him warmly, relieved to see him alive. Some asked about his experience, and though he couldn't explain everything, he spoke honestly about gratitude, discipline, and the will to change.
To his surprise, people listened intently. A few even thanked him for sharing, saying his words encouraged them. Ramses realized in that moment that his story wasn't just about him—it could be a light for others stumbling in their own darkness.
As he walked home that evening, he felt something stirring inside him again—not fear, but possibility.
The freeze had given him a strange kind of life within death. Now, reality gave him the chance to live without hesitation.
Standing at his doorway, Ramses whispered to himself, "This is freedom. Not the kind I once dreamed of, but the kind I never knew I needed."
And for the first time, the future didn't terrify him. It called to him.