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I want to break free :.

September 5, 2007

If the above phrase conjures up visions of a scary Freddie Mercury in a dress and makeup and seductively pushing around a vacuum cleaner, you’re not the only one.. It gives me nightmares..

But this post is not about that.. fear not. It’s more of the personal and cultural shackles that we wear. A friend has often said that I burden myself with the weight of the world.. maybe it’s not so true.. I am weighed down by the heavy shackles I wear. These are not physical shackles, mind you, not irons meant to keep prisoners in line.. though it feels like that sometimes.

Malay, Muslim, Woman, Daughter.  These words weigh heavy on me as if they were made of lead and strapped onto my back.

Don’t get me wrong, I wear these titles proudly. But by the same token, they limit me. If you have never known the outside world, or dream nothing more than getting the titles Wife and Mother added to the list above, I suggest you read no further.

If you, like me, have dreamed far and wide, experienced the adventures the world has to offer, then you know how I feel.

I think I’ve been struck with a case of not just ‘extreme wanderlust’, but ‘absolute fantasy’, and ‘intense imagination.’

And the thing is, there is no cure for these ‘diseases’, except to fulfill them.. and even then.. they will never die.. They’ll just live on in you like an intense longing.

These days, I can’t even think straight. My dreams are filled with possibilities and places.. and it feels like I’m going out of my mind. Destinations and dream cities flit in and out of my mind..  I’m like a cat on edge, jumping and twitching at every noise or sign of excitement.

The last few weeks have felt so surreal, like I’m watching myself live my life through my tv set. I feel detached. Were those two weeks really truly the only time I felt so alive? It can’t be.. then this is not living, this is merely existing.

I can’t carry on the way things are.. or how they are going to be. I just know one truth, just one. That as long as I ‘exist’ like this, in this state of ennui, I’m doomed.

I need to break my own personal glass ceiling, the crystal walls, the personal shackles.

And it’s a scary prospect. Sometimes I feel like the whole world is going to fall down around me, if I dare do it.. Like I’m causing the end of the world because I choose to defect from the life I know now.

But there are other pieces of me that are screaming, ‘Don’t let the dreams die!’

So I sing..

” God knows, got to make it on my own
So baby can’t you see?
I’ve got to break free..”

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