Saturday, January 26, 2013

Hollow.

Written by an anonymous friend.


We all have begun to realize that we aren't that important after all. We grew thinking about the fairy tales where the world would resolve around us and slowly we are adapting to the fact that we hold no significance. Nobody is going to write our praises when we die, nobody is going to remember what we said or did. We aren't leaders; we aren't the people we always idolized. We are ordinary human beings.  Ordinary, and hence astoundingly disposable. We now are aware of how easily we can be replaced.

We have begun to realize that butterflies aren't beautiful and rainbow on a sunny day isn't perfection. we are opening up to the possibility that there is a chance, a slight chance that god doesn't like us after all and maybe this existence and us being trapped in our skin is just his way of belittling us and the fact that this world might just be hell.

We are growing up to the fact that our life might have no purpose and there is no bigger picture, we are random assholes little more than a hollow husk coated with flesh and skin, being dictated in every sense of the word.  We aren't going to save the world, we can’t even save ourselves. Maybe the only reason why we like to kill others is because of the rush to the head, because we like it, because our lives would be pretty boring otherwise. Maybe we don't want our issues to be sorted, our problems solved, our hearts mended and our souls healed because if all that happens, what’s left in life? Paths not known of which we are afraid to embark upon? and we are just cowards we don't want to discover the unknown.

When it’s all said and done, maybe we will put a chair outside in the yard and look up in the sky and accept things. Accept that there is no purpose, and life is just a big empty space.. Hollow. unfilled. Life is a punishment.

Monday, January 21, 2013

A Little Bit of Happy, God?

3 years ago, I lived somewhere else. We had this family living in the flat above ours. They had an 8 year old who spoke only Pashto (except when swearing), randomly came into our homes and started wandering around.

Today, this boy died of cancer. I can't even begin to know what to feel. I knew this kid. I had weird conversations with him; me talking in Urdu and laughing when he'd yell back in Pashto.  I'm shocked, yeah. Grief is a given: such a young child who died. I don't know what to write here, I don't know how to explain this whole jumbled up, brightly colored, painful ball of grief and dread and shock and despair in my head. I just need to talk to you, whoever is reading this, whoever is listening. I don't care who you are, I just need you to listen.

And God? I'm still waiting for that little bit of happy I hope I'm going to get. A tiny sign of 'it's all going to be okay' because I desperately need to believe in it.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Friday, January 18, 2013

When Will This End?

I know I'm supposed to expect this. I should be getting used to it. But sometimes it hits so hard, so bad. It's like I suddenly stop breathing and go blank. Like my heart is contained inside this cold metal fist that squeezes harder and harder until there's nothing but the pain. I'm supposed to accept it, let it go and move on. I can't. Every time, every bloody time this happens, I'm back to square one. The panic, the scrambled brain, the fear that no-things-will-never-be-okay... I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to accept or let it go or move on. How am I supposed to do that? 

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Waiting for the Numb.


It doesn't hurt because if you keep hurting the same part of you again and again and again, the nerve endings all die. And when that happens, that part of you goes numb. That's why it doesn't hurt. Don't be proud of it.
- IWTFY

Saturday, January 12, 2013

We're Not All Hazara: We're All Victims.

Regardless of where you live, Shias are being eliminated very efficiently all over the world. You know what the worst part of these tragedies are? The 'after'. Living with this. Living after it. Holding your dead and feeling like your heart will shrivel up and die with the pain and grief and senseless cruelty of it all. The dead... I don't know where they go. But we assume they reach oblivion. We don't. We're the ones left behind, the ones expected to do something about it.

There are peaceful protests happening all over Pakistan today and I'm going to one, too. I saw comments on these event pages and people outright refuse to show up claiming "This won't do any good." Sitting on your ass at home does? I'm not saying we should go out and overtake the government, achieve cures for AIDS and cancer, or establish world peace. What everyone wants right now is support. A participation in these events that tells them you care, that you'd at least be willing to show up with hundreds of other people. If for nothing than standing there, at least SHOW THE HELL UP. Believe me, it is at least way better than twiddling your thumbs, hiding in your room and ignoring the rising death toll on the news everyday. For one bloody day, stop being a cynic and please. Show. Up.

Protest in Lahore today: https://www.facebook.com/events/359604887471720/

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Pow.

"Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?"

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

"Can we make them know they deserve more?"

"We can try."

- Perks of Being a Wallflower.