just a phase

I saw my father's sad eyes look away, his hand reaching for his broken heart unconsciously. The spark of light in my eyes had gone out, and it hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him, I only want to live. But I can not live his way. If he knew the length of path I’ve taken it would kill him. I couldn’t do that to him. I had to make sure I played the part right and well in his company, as much as it killed me to lie. It was so hard to lie.

It was funny that he too had rebelled against his father’s ways, and my children will assuredly do the same to me. I can only pray that I will handle it well.

The need for change arose when I stood near the brink of death and debated whether or not to dive in or fight. When I looked back at my life, I saw that it was lived entirely for others, and the well had run dry. My life was maintained and controlled for the approval of the community in order to validate the authority of my father. The role I had to play sucked the life out of me, denying my wings because of god, religion, gender, race, or age. Every opportunity I had to bloom I was stifled, and it ached like a need to breathe. I took the world that so restrained me and forbade me and limited me and walked away.

I can never go back. It’s a jacket that doesn’t fit any more. It’s too tight. It makes me feel... Claustrophobic. So how do I answer to my father, whom I love with all my heart? How do I tell him that he didn’t fail me? How do I tell him that I haven’t failed at all? It was only when I escaped that I discovered the world. I saw perfection. I saw God in everything. Even in the vices that are so forbidden from the life of a Muslim, I saw God.

He will never hear me or understand me… which is how we arrived at this point.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile, “It’s just a phase.”