I choose to see.

Not what I’m told to see.
Not what is convenient, comfortable, or socially rewarded —
but what is.

I declare awareness of the systems that shape my thoughts before I notice them. Of narratives repeated until they feel like truth. Of comforts that pacify, distractions that fragment, and fears that keep me small.

I declare awareness that much of what is called “normal” is engineered. That many freedoms are conditional. That convenience often comes at the cost of autonomy, and safety is frequently used to justify control.

I accept that ignorance is easier — but I refuse it.

I declare awareness of my own participation. Of the ways I outsource responsibility, trade attention for stimulation, and mistake noise for meaning.

This is not a declaration of purity or perfection. It is a refusal to lie to myself.

I understand that awareness carries a cost. It complicates conversations. It isolates before it clarifies. It removes the comfort of pretending nothing is wrong.

But it also restores something essential: Choice.

With awareness, I am no longer reacting blindly. I am no longer governed solely by impulse, fear, or habit. I become capable of discernment — of deciding what enters my mind, my body, and my life.

I do not declare war. I do not declare superiority. I declare responsibility.

To question before I accept. To observe before I obey. To remain awake even when sleep is encouraged.

This is not the end of comfort — it is the beginning of clarity.

I declare awareness.