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June 15, 2008
My hand suddenly raised and my mouth opened. Just then that I realized there were strings attached to my wrist, elbow, feet, knees, and lower jaw.

Some odd looking dolls and toy animals joined me in the stage. They too have strings attached to them.

I am a puppet. We are. Controlled.

We were singing and dancing in circles. Each one forced to smile. Some puppets come and go while I still remain.

The show is tiring, I desperately want to break free. But the strings were tougher than they looked. My wrists are bleeding as I struggled to free myself.

What's the price for freedom?