Dream Escape Route

My Escape Route

One day, when I can finally drive a car without looking like I'm negotiating a hostage situation with the steering wheel...

I'm going to disappear. Not dramatically.

Well.  Actually, who am I kidding? Extremely dramatically. 😂

I'm talking about the kind of disappearance where nobody gets a farewell speech.

No emotional announcement.  No “I'm leaving because...”

No twelve-paragraph explanation. No committee meeting. No family consultation.

No permission slip. Just me. 

A suitcase. A passport. A ridiculous amount of money. And a car.

Finally.  A fucking car.

Because apparently one of the great tragedies of my life is that I cannot currently drive myself away from anything. 😂

But one day? Oh, one day I'll be able to.

And when that day comes, I'm not going to Bandung.

I'm not going somewhere five hours away so I can return home by dinner.

No. I'm going somewhere with snow.

I want to see a landscape that doesn't look anything like the life I knew.

I want mountains covered in white. Trees covered in snow. Cold air hurting my face.

My footprints disappearing behind me.

I want to stand somewhere so beautiful that my problems look embarrassingly small.

I want to look around and think: Nobody here knows me.

And for once that will feel fucking wonderful.

I want to be anonymous. Not because I'm ashamed of who I am.

Because I want to experience what it's like to exist without a backstory.

No one needs to know what happened. No one needs to know who left.

No one needs to know who stayed silent. 

No one needs to know how many nights I couldn't sleep.

No one needs to know how many times I questioned myself.

No one needs to know how many pieces of myself I had to collect.

I'll just be a woman in a winter coat who has absolutely no idea where she is going tomorrow.

And somehow that's the dream.

I want money. And I don't mean: “I can pay my bills.” I've done that kind of money.

I'm talking about fuck-it money. 

The kind of money where the question isn't: “Can I afford this?”

It's: “Do I want it?”

And if the answer is yes? Booked.

Business class. Beautiful hotel.  Ocean-view room. Mountain-view room.

A stupidly expensive dinner. A train ticket because I suddenly feel like seeing another city.

A private driver. A spa. A ridiculous coat I will wear exactly four times.

Why? Because I fucking can. 😂

I want to experience luxury without guilt. Not because luxury will heal me.

It won't. A hotel cannot heal heartbreak.

A business-class seat cannot repair a marriage.

A designer bag cannot resurrect a version of yourself you've lost.

But there is something delicious about finally being able to say: “I want this.”

And simply having the freedom to have it.

I want to wake up somewhere I've never been.

Order breakfast in bed. Open the curtains. See snow. Drink coffee.

And spend the entire morning doing absolutely nothing productive.

Nothing. No deadlines. No obligations. No emotional emergencies. 

No one needing an explanation. Just silence. And snow. And room service.

Heaven, apparently, has a minibar. 😂

I want to meet strangers. Real strangers.

People who know nothing about me. Maybe I'll sit beside someone in a café.

Maybe we'll start talking. Maybe I'll make a friend.

Maybe I'll never see them again. And that's okay.

Not every connection needs to become a lifelong relationship.

Some people can simply exist in one beautiful moment of your life.

A conversation. A laugh. A meal. A shared train ride. Then goodbye.

No complicated history. No emotional archaeology. No excavation required.

Just: “It was nice meeting you.”

And then you disappear into different directions. How fucking beautiful is that?

I want to drive through unfamiliar roads. Stop when something looks beautiful.

Take pictures. Get lost. Find another road. Stop for coffee.

Buy something completely unnecessary. Drive again.

Maybe cross a border. Maybe cross several.

Maybe wake up one morning and decide:  “I don't like this city anymore.” 

Fine. Next city.  That's the level of freedom I'm talking about.

Not freedom from one person. Freedom from having to explain my existence.

That's the part I want. I want to stop living like every decision needs to be justified.

Why are you going there? Why are you wearing that?  Why are you spending that?

Why do you want this? Why don't you want that? Why are you changing?

Why are you leaving? Why are you staying?

Why? Why? Why?

One day I want the answer to all of it to simply be: Because I fucking wanted to.

And that's enough.

I want to become so financially secure that other people's opinions become background noise.

Not because I suddenly stop caring about everyone.

Because I finally stop confusing being considerate with being controlled.

There is a difference. 

And I want to learn it so thoroughly that nobody ever has to teach me again.

I want my own life. Not a life borrowed from someone else's expectations.

Not a life designed around keeping another person comfortable.

Not a life where I constantly wonder whether I'm being too much.

I want to be too much. Too loud. Too curious. Too adventurous.

Too expensive. Too spontaneous. Too ridiculous. Too alive.

Whatever.

I'm tired of being appropriately sized for other people's comfort.

Let me be fucking enormous. 😂

And maybe someday I'll sit in some beautiful snowy place, wearing a ridiculous coat, drinking an overpriced coffee, looking at my bank account and realizing: I did it.

Not the marriage. Not the perfect life. Not the happily-ever-after I originally imagined.

Something better. Something mine. I built a life I don't need to escape from.

And maybe I'll laugh. 

Because the woman who once thought she needed someone else's permission to live...

ended up buying a plane ticket and leaving anyway.

No dramatic goodbye. No revenge. No replacement. No grand romantic rescue.

Just me. A passport. A suitcase. A full bank account. 

And absolutely no fucking interest in explaining myself. 

And if someone asks where I'm going? I'll smile.

Because for once, I don't know. And I don't need to.

Maybe somewhere with snow. Maybe somewhere I've never heard of.

Maybe somewhere nobody knows my name.

Maybe somewhere I'll meet people who become stories.

Maybe somewhere I'll finally meet the version of myself who was waiting all these years.

And when I find her? I'm taking her with me.

Because this time... I'm not leaving myself behind.