Broken Again

I give you everything that I am
I’m handin’ over everything that I’ve got
Cause I wanna have a really true love
Don’t ever wanna have to go & give you up
Stay up till Four In The Morning & the tears are pouring
& I want to make it worth the fight
What have we been doing for all this time?
Baby if we’re gonna do it, come on do it right

All I wanted was to know I’m safe
Don’t want to lose the love I’ve found
Remember when you said that you would change
Don’t let me down
It’s not fair how you are
I can’t be complete, can you give me more?

– Gwen Stefani, 4 in the Morning

Back at home, decided not to head on to the place I was going to because I might as well fight my parents on my own turf. Yes, it’s a long road ahead, and a lonely one too, because of what I’ve promised them, but I’ll be damned if I let them take over my life like this again. My parents, before Sunday, have thrown me many labels, but talking to Zero made me realise that I’m not as bad as they made me out to be; if anything, I’m better than most because at the end of the day, I’m still here, in my parents’ home writing this entry with tears running down my face.

We broke up today. The last two days have been a dream outside a dream. It’s given me the strength to fight, to defy them… though it’s always easier to say this behind a computer screen than in front of them, when my mind goes blank because I can’t think fast enough, and there’s the threat of violence by my father. My biggest worry, which may seem like a small thing to most people, is that my father might actually hire someone to beat up Raz. Some people may say that I’m overreacting, but my father is just that insane.

Someone pointed out to me that my mother may be frustrated and disappointed and angry at losing her ‘obedient’ daughter, who’s had enough of her crap. She may well be feeling all those emotions because she’s lost control over me, and by losing control over me, she’s lost control of her life, as before this, she was always controlled by everyone else. That would fit in with Mom, actually. She’s a very simple person to figure out at heart, and unlike my father, she’s honest.

Dad, on the other hand, is a hypocritical bastard. According to him, it’s ok to be friends with other people, but not ok to fall in love with them. The reason for not being with a Malay is so that your children will escape the stigma of being a Muslim in this paranoid country. What I don’t get is, if you want me to take care of you when you’re older, then why don’t you just say so? Why do you have to beat around the bush and try to mindfuck me? You think guilt will make me obey?

When I was leaving Penang, I had this moment of terror, where I wanted to take off my seatbelt (came back via plane, AirAsia’s airbuses are nice but that’s another story) rush out the door and run outside to look for Raz and tell him not to let me go. We’ve decided to break up for now, but it’s hard. This was coming, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. The tears are pouring down my face, and if it weren’t for the fact that I do have work tomorrow, I would stay home and weep till I couldn’t anymore. As it is, I’ll end this with just a single request:

To parents, those who are going to be parents, as well as those who will raise children

Please, please please, I beg you! Let them choose their own lives. Let them choose who they want to be with. Don’t, please, I beg of you, let them go through what Raz and I are going through now. You’ll earn your children’s undying hatred for one, and you’ll be proving to the world just how small-minded and bigoted you are if you do so.

Thank you.

2 thoughts on “Broken Again”

  1. Actually, part of choosing your own lives is learning to find that balance between the things you can change and the things you can’t, and the things you can’t includes your parents. I have a friend who’s having some difficulty because of a similar situation — but the guy is Indian, not Muslim.

    I know why you can’t break off from your parents. They’re your *parents*, after all, and some bonds are difficult to be cut, and you’re not ready to do that yet. But, eventually, you will be able to stand on your own ground — though only after you’ve been thrown about a lot — while being able to say to yourself: “Yes, I did what was right. I took care of my parents, I took care of myself — at a certain place my parents have to accept that they were wrong”.

    I’ve seen people in their thirties and forties who can’t get boyfriends because their mother is afraid that they’ll leave. Sometimes it takes a very, very long time.

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