Mental note.

Note to self: the only kind of people about which you can make the extraordinary assumption of trustworthiness are the very evil, nonchalant type of people who care so genuinely little about the world and its values that they'd never think anything is worth hiding.You know they can be trusted because they'd give you a heads up before planning to potentially screw you over. In any case you'd see it coming.They have their uses you see, their unadulterated honesty always has uses. They have nothing to hide hence even their indiscretions are hilarious and you can always have a good laugh with them about it over some tea with a sprinkling of...

Personally I'd choose someone evil but honest over the long ass line of mr and missus goodie two shoes who would like nothing better than to stick you with a fork, out of the goodness of their hearts no doubt. People who show you they don't care but are almost always there if you cry out for help, well you know where that their souls are still flying around somewhere in the realm of humanity.

Don't ever trust people who let you down by their actions but are always there to comfort you with words they've memorized and don't really mean and perhaps they're just repeating themselves for no good reason. Human beings are extraordinarily simple, we've just been looking at them all wrong. Maybe we've all spent too much time looking for something that cannot exist in them. That they can never be. That all those guts and glory films could never quite drum into their heads. Looking for someone perhaps, that isn't there.

It's a long wait. But redemption is a promise, to most of us in any case. Know your cue and take it. There's a whole world out there and it's waiting.

The humanity syndrome.

Every now and then something has the misfortune of happening that gets you questioning everything you know or everything you thought about someone or about yourself. Sometimes you find that everything has so suddenly and irrevocably changed that you have to cling to some prayer beads and pray that the chasm in your head that's split open would stop sucking everything in. It is in times like these that you have no idea what to have faith in, any more. I went to stay with my nani, and I was so ridiculously happy there, she and I are so much the same. The minute I came back however, the same black cloud descended, claiming its rightful place by me. Since then it's all crap once more. How I hate it here, what a surprising thought, in my own damn house. Maybe I hate it all the more now because it all reminds me of what has happened this year and the last. Tanya, my best friend has been a rock for me, so I can just fall on her shoulder and cry about how my life went to the dogs. I knew she'd catch me even if I can't think right any more, even if my soul is giving away, even if I have nothing but ugliness to share. But she goes away soon too, off to college. I don't mind being alone,not really but occasionally one needs people even if just to admire your new heels or the fact that you can do your make up well enough to make someone faint on the street. In some ways I'm a little happier, a little relieved than I've been in a long time but the grief inside me never goes away. What lengths I've had to fall to, to make sure I was still human and hadn't turned into something else, all so soon, all before schedule. Can you make me care now? I'm not the same girl, I feel it. Why do all these special rules apply to me, anyone else can do terrible things without this hideous guilt and grief. Why the hell am I having to be more human than I've seen humans be?

To be one and done.

I've totally skipped out on my first Blogger birthday! I started on 17th May last year and am exactly where I was then, outlook-on-existence wise. Quite brilliant I think. :D  Some people try to tell me what to do, try to fit me into human moulds, try to tell me to feel better the way their species commonly would. But I am not of any species. No, If being carefree and happy means giving up the way I feel, becoming just like anyone else then I'm sure that would kill me faster than anything else. I'm meant to be something else, happy in my own way and I believe there's a reason I experience things very differently from others. I don't want the sort of happiness that makes me like anyone else or a part of anything. And it's no solitary road I'm on. Someone to whom I might be indebted for the rest of my life for getting me through a difficult time knew this. She knew exactly what to say because she knew that I already had all the answers. I wasn't really looking for anything I hadn't figured out already. I needed a very good look in the mirror.It's true what they say; you're your own worst enemy.

Morph-ville.

I've been gone a while I know. Sometimes I think that the blog helps me keep track of myself. When I'm entirely gone, maybe I'll look up my old posts and remember that even though I was in pain, I knew exactly who I was and who I was not. Now I'm not so sure. Need to start applying to unis, need to find my choice of subjects blah blah blah. I've been obliged (being a mild word) to stay in Islamabad. And you've guessed it. There's nothing here. And now I'm never going to get out, nothing is ever going to happen. I will fall into the same obscurity that finds its way into everything nowadays. And I don't believe there's a person in the world who cares about what would happen to me. My mum always taught me that I was so talented, so above everyone else that the world was waiting for me. She was wrong. I feel as if they both knew exactly how it was all going to turn out. And they kept it from me. Or maybe I didn't want to believe the truth then. After all this time, after everything that's been done to me, what a stupid time to find out I'd been betrayed. They've all won, you know. I have lost to them. Me, the girl I held in such high esteem, the same girl who I thought was so strong she couldn't be moulded or broken by anyone. For the first time I find myself wishing I was like them; these people around who I looked at with conceit and scorn. Maybe if I was like them, I wouldn't feel this way. Because I feel inhuman, fixed, cold, hollow. I can't bring myself to be angry. Can't make myself get up, because I don't see the point any more. After a certain illusion ends, I'm not sure how it all goes from there. Perhaps I should relish the feeling of sudden freedom but I feel more enslaved than ever. How do I go back to who I was, and why on earth would that be such a great idea anyway? Who I thought was the light at the end of the tunnel was the very anchor leading me into darkness forever. I let that win too. I let it happen and I'd blame me if it would fix anything. But what should I fix and how? I can't bring myself to retrace my footsteps and figure out where it all went wrong. I hate it here and it's only going to get worse. If I don't make some decisions now, someone else will make them for me.

Funeral Blues.

It's the hardest thing in the world to give up on a friend. Shockingly, it's always been so easy for me before, I was never conflicted and I never backed down from what needed to be done. Except this one person is the exception. The only exception to the rule to ever exist for me. I need to see that this person is dead, and only I'm able to remember what was there before all this worthlessness and normality. There was the long lost vulnerability I had looked for in every human being I had ever met. And now it's gone. There is nothing left to cry for. I don't recognize anything here. I'm able to push it down, every now and then when I'm around people, force myself to believe that I remember nothing, that I feel nothing. They're all happy as circus midgets and I'm stuck here in mourning, in some sort of funeral that never ends. I'm the only one wearing black because nobody else knew the truth about this human being anyway. I know what they see and it is enough for them and now it's all that left for me to see too. It shucks, man. I wish I didn't remember. I shouldn't have to remember. It isn't fair. Whoever I am and whatever darkness I have in me, I don't deserve this. I don't want to see. You can't make me see.

Fabrication through the centuries.

We've all grown up hearing crap like how if it's worth it, it will never be easy. I want to tell you that that's bullshit. Bullshit fabricated by idealists who spent their lives in pursuit of the very things responsible for their ruin. We all want it to be worth something in the end don't we? That here, at the end of all things it meant something. We're looking for meaning in those very things that took meaning from us, that took peace from us, that took purpose and moulded themselves to look like purpose. To be construed as purpose...by us. Take it from me, if it's worth it, it will be natural, pure, it won't hurt because it won't know pain. It'll help put you together rather than be the very frequency, inside which you can only be blown to bits, only be destroyed and nothing else. I've been taught weird things. Loyalty, how to stick by the side of people you care about even if they've hurt you and mutilated you. I fought it all my life, and here I am at the end, nothing but a filthy product of the same damn submissive thinking that I despise above all else. If it was worth it, it would have put my life right, it wouldn't have thrown me further off base. I wouldn't have been this...this girl whose feelings I'm ashamed of. She's beneath me and I can't live with it. It is all my own doing and I'm deprived of what it would take to fix it. And still, the guilt never goes away. I feel it keenly, much more than anyone possibly can. There are ways to go, but I'm stuck here, in a deep sleep and I can't wake up. I can never wake up. And if I don't, it's the end.

All the things the world ain't ending for.

I'm thinking at the moment about all the things I feel will haunt me forever. Maybe I can't be put back together again. I rejoice in the fact that soon school will be over and I can make a fresh start. Not be burdened with the weight of the past years. I've been terribly unhappy and nobody has been able to make it better. Maybe a new place with new people might actually suit me more than where I have spent my entire life. Soon this nightmare will be over, and I'll try to forget I ever existed there. That any of those people existed that disappoint me, that I look down upon. Maybe just maybe, it will finally be over. And I go on with my painful existence anew. Perhaps happiness is out of my reach but whatever I have gone through, it wasn't the end of the world. The scars can stay there, I don't care. At a certain point we all realize we are all we've got. Even if I am here, in the dark, in eternal solitude, I'll get over it. I'll get over the ache inside, I'll get over the fatigue, I'll get over the fact that I've been mangled beyond recognition. I'll forget about it all. I'm not a lot of things but there is one thing I'll always be. Resilient as hell. I'll survive it all, no matter how I do it, or how long it takes me to get me right, I'll fix it. I fixed me before when I had no one and I can do it again. No matter what I'll ever think or say, Bakhtawar Azam needs no one. She never has and she never will. Creatures like me do not dwell on the affection of anything, we do not need people to hold our hand through the impenetrable darkness. I needed it last year, I was broken last year, like a hole punched through a granite wall but I built it up again. This time nothing and no one will ever get through. This time I will protect myself. This time I will keep my promises.

Nightmarish bondage.

Will it end? I feel the fear strongly now. I barely have it at bay, as it sneers at me in the darkness. It knows that soon it will have its fair share of me and I can't stop it. I can't stop the nightmare. Always the same undertones in all of them and they always find me. How could I be condemned like this...doesn't seem real. Will it never end? It tears me apart from the inside, razor sharp cuts all the way through. Everything else that I have ever faced was external, I can fight the world, I can destroy what threatens me in the outside. My game. My arena. But not inside. I can't fight this, can't fight myself on it. Can't make myself yield, can't turn myself in. It's only me I can never destroy in the outside world. And I'm afraid. Just let this one nightmare be over, and let the next begin.

Game over.

You have to remember what you are. Can't you see the world wanted to play with you? It wanted the most valuable heart in the universe to be out in the open, there for inspection in front of squirmy common folk. The mind of centuries devoted to a mindless cause, a prisoner, when it is that same mind that created prisoners and knew nothing but freedom and nothing about weakness. It is a strange game the world plays, makes you so devoted in its rut that you can't see clear no more. Utter bondage. Pathetic. And it ends today.