Its Own Entity

I want to be brave, I know I do but I still feel like the girl hiding under the bed peering outside. I'm still that girl. And the fear has grown into its own entity. Gruesome and alive, as powerful as the real me, but I can live with it now. In any case I cannot find it anymore perhaps the fear and me have become the same being at last.
The nightmares are getting worse and I often wake up with tears spluttered on my face, half dried like the dreams of yesterday. I never want to remember what I'd seen and even they are not the same anymore. No point telling anyone, better to open a drawer and stock everything away. Even pain is useful my mother always says. Pain tells you where the problem is. For medical doctors anyway.
I've been learning a lot from someone new. I remember the things he says and I use them. At the moment I suppose; to shut everything and everyone out till I can feel nothing anymore. Numbness is best because I'm tired. Because everything is gone, perhaps the sickness should have taken the last shreds too, because I want to not be me anymore. 'Me' as a concept doesn't work.
I find if I pursue the most self destructive path I could wash myself of everything I had been. But if I was so easy to destroy I couldn't have survived all those other things. Things which were supposed to kill me. So often I wish they had.
I had left my book and my dreams but I see they are finding themselves back to me somehow. There is only so far you can run from what you are and it's time to stop running.

Islamabad, The Place Where I Live

People say Islamabad is peaceful and what not. It does have greenery to be sure and that is something beautiful indeed. But most humans I should imagine miss out on its most vital theme. The desolation it hides so carefully is the most powerful atmospheric vibe of all. I feel empty when I'm in Islamabad like all happiness is gone, like happiness would in any case be terribly out of place. And even when I could have left it clung to me and kept me here in its morose little spell. The roads and the pavements you will find are terribly clean, perhaps spotless but there is no actual life or culture here. Shopping is pointless with little variety for picky people like me, and the lights go out before the night has truly fallen. Even when me and my family go out for dinner, I come back more miserable than before. I hate that the people who hurt me still probably live in this city somewhere or that the remnants of their memory can still somehow be found. With time I have begun to hate everything about it. Reading through my posts you may think that I am an intolerant, temperamental little wench but there is more to me. I have lost myself for now it is true but surely someone must know how much more there is. I feel in the midst of chaos for the first real time in my life. Before there were things I could hold on to, there were things to go back to but now there is nothing. The people I have modeled my life after are liars and they have completed their deception to the point at which it has sucked me in and destroyed all that I knew about life. This city seems in connivance with other external forces, it makes me feel unwelcome, it makes me feel like a stranger and its beauty has no comfort or solace for me. It seems like people now, acting pretty on the outside but filled with unimaginable filth within. The conflict is greater now than ever before and so is the presence of all the things that I dread and there is no one to help. No one CAN help I think, I need to find a new anchor because the old ones have decayed and their foundations are lost. Where can one go when your identity is a lie, when you belong nowhere and with no one and when deprivation in its entirety is all that even fits anymore? Something is terribly wrong here and too much has happened and my backbone has broken with the weight of it. How do I continue to carry boldly all that now exists behind, without it?

The Tide

The nightmares are finally beginning to stop I think. The past three months, well largely skipping out the last three weeks have been like someone died. And not just how someone dies once and gets it over with but how they die again and again when they were just alive, right there...almost a moment ago. Haven't felt like working on my novel, haven't felt like responding to the text messages of my numerous friends, perhaps now they all seem to come with their own set of bad associations. Like I may not even have a bad memory with a particular person but they were there when something good happened and it hurts all over now to think of it. I enjoy the simple pleasures of life, makeup and extra effort on my hair and just quiet cups of tea in the morning and evenings. Have been trying to give myself a break, time to recover from what happened to me. Even though it seems somewhat a little fixed now, I don't think I care about that anymore. I don't think I want what I wanted before. Now, more than anything else my solitude has become me. I've learned how to live without all the countless people that I have today to thank for ruining my life. I don't need them to come put anything right and I don't want them around me. I don't want to think about the future or how where I am is not good enough for me but then again the far set haven of false promises is also not for me. Perhaps right now I am where I'm supposed to be. I am becoming myself again, not needing anyone but being needed, not caring about anyone but having people care about the way they are around me. I'm going deep into my own shell but perhaps it needs to be done right now. There is no reason for me to change the flow, to adapt to someone else's plans and needs. I cannot sacrifice myself anymore because the people we sacrifice for, even if it be our parents, all betray us in the end. The most fundamental element of the human being is not something mushy and gutsy or brave or awesome. Their most fundamental tendency is to betray, to deceive. And I'm not like that. I feel like I need to go away somewhere alone and talk to God or something. I'm not willing to invest in people anymore, I just...don't want any of this anymore. I enjoy the peace, where I'm only worrying about making myself happy. I need this right now. And I'm not giving it up for anyone. I want the past to leave me alone, I need the body to be put in the water and be taken away by the waves and for it to be crushed against the rocks somewhere else. It is time for my suffering to end.

Filthville

You know when I first entered uni, for a while I thought I'd found people like myself. It was what I wanted to believe. I had hated my past and here was salvation at last apparently. I regret to inform you that I am every bit the fool I ever was. I didn't learn a thing from what happened to me before. I successfully set out to make the same stupid mistakes all over again. Maybe for a while I was forgetting who I was. For a while maybe I wanted to try forgetting because it is so difficult being me and making the kind of choices I have to make. It is only recently that I figured out that it is not the same for everyone else. Everyone does not feel pain the way I do, they don't practice devotion and loyalty like I do, they just...are not me. I feel everything much more deeply, excruciatingly. Been watching 'Hannibal' and actually wondering whether I may have an empathy disorder. Could be possible. Anything is possible I suppose. I hate being at home, I have Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays off you see. But then I'm not actually happy at uni either. The thing I seemed to be waiting for is now gone and maybe I'm to blame. The guilt is always mine. No matter what I do or don't do, the guilt is mine.
I decided something today. I decided who I'm supposed to be. It's the easiest thing in the world to give in, certainly I see everyone doing it. But I am not 'everyone' am I? I was never supposed to be. I am better because I can do the things they can't, I can make the decisions they aren't good enough to make, I can take the right path even though it is the most difficult thing I have ever imagined. I can't live in a world where I've bowed down to their filth, somehow crawled in right beside them where they lie. Probably like cockroaches. I'm not inhuman, I'm loving and loyal and kind but the people I know don't deserve it. They will try to live off of it if they can and they are slowly outrunning their purpose and soon I may have no use for them. And we all know what I do with people I no longer have use for. I've accepted that everyone I have ever loved has already betrayed me and the ones that are still lingering about will continue to do so in worse ways than before. I have accepted that I will be betrayed all over again but this time around I can decide whether it affects me or not. This time around I can remember what Bakhtawar Azam was supposed to be, what I made her to be, and I can just silently walk away. I can't help them, I can't do anything and standing by them till they finally stab me in the back as hard as they possibly can is no longer what I do. I no longer keep faith in people. I no longer stand by them, hoping they'll be human again. I no longer do all the bloody chores, hoping they'll see who I am someday and they'll care.
You know that stupid ass line, let someone go if you love em and if they come back it was meant to be or some shit like that? If you love someone you stand by them even if it ruins you. Because that is what love is. It's hell on Earth. If it's so easy for someone to just cut their losses and move on, then their love was never worth anything to begin with. Then it just wasn't good enough. Slowly but surely I'm realizing not much about me is normal, that I'm structured differently. But there's nothing to be done and I'll just have to leave it at that. Survival is all I can do right now.

The Old Place Ain't Home No More.

Old images used to haunt me but not really, not anymore. All the horrors mean nothing anymore and I no longer have the same dreams. I'm altered almost completely and without doubt and yet not at all. I can't see the dimness of the road ahead, but it doesn't matter to me. The old sadness clings, like a dying friend but now perhaps we have become each other. Parasitic in our inseparability. I remember the old place, the oranges and the grass and the little tunnels with dead leaves. I remember that as the last time I ever felt peace. I also remember I can never make that place exist again, that it's been sullied. That it's gone. But so what? I find myself saying. Whatever mattered doesn't matter anymore. Whatever I loved is and has always been a lie, whatever I dreamed of is no more than a nightmare that knows all the stupid little workings of my mind, whatever I am is unfit to survive for long. Time will keep me together but only for a while. And that while I suppose makes all the difference in the world.

The Turn Of The Crossroads.

I am so happy that I'm afraid any moment I might pass out from it. There is a day when all men fall and falter, there is a day like that coming for me too but it is not today. Today I am standing tall and God has enabled me to do so. He has taken me from evil, from all the weaknesses that so commonly exist in human beings and he has delivered me to safety. I know I sound all preachy but now I don't care about people anymore, I am what I was supposed to be. I have passed my test. One of the toughest ones that ever face anyone. At the end of all of it I am pure. And there's no blood on my hands anymore and no guilt; imaginary or otherwise. Everything I have faced, all the troubles I have seen, the graves I have been in don't matter anymore. I survived them and no matter what tomorrow has in store for me, I will survive that too because I know that I am not weak. I know that I have character and integrity that cannot be bought, that cannot be tarnished, that no one anywhere can have even if they sell their very souls for it. Now I know that good exists as I have now come across people I cannot believe are alive. You can imagine how I must rub my eyes at such a sight. I had never seen anything but filth and selfishness and evil and now there is so much good around me. It teaches me that no matter what happens or what we see on t.v or read about in the papers, there will always be more good than evil. Good is just more easily concealed. I also know now that one must never lose hope because there is a point between when you're crushed to the ground completely broken with nowhere to go that you feel that last urge inside you rise. That last little voice that says there is still a battle to be fought if you are ready to fight and that even if it is a losing battle, it is better than dying here with the knowledge that you did nothing. We cannot keep looking back, at every point we can only hope to do the right thing, to make the choice that satisfies our conscience and our principles. Promises are cheap, humans are weak, and we never know anything till it is our time to know but remember this : getting all that you ever wanted means nothing if you didn't get it the right way. Money is nothing, power is nothing, fame is pointless, the only thing that matters is who you are and whether or not you'd betray yourself for a distant ship over the ocean that promises safe haven and glories. I think I still remember all too well this Chinese story I read as a kid in which one sister chooses to work and toil hoping that water will come out of the ground in the island that she lives in and life shall flourish again and one sister that sells herself off. You can imagine how that works out. One become a phoenix in the end and the second sister dies in the ocean condemned to scream her own bloody murder for all eternity. I don't know what the future brings but it is not my business to know, my business is only to do what's right and to trust in God completely and to work hard and try to do all the things I used to dream about as a kid. There is time yet for redemption and it is all mine at last.

The Prisoner Of Self.

For some time I had myself thinking that I'd repaid my debt. That my pain would finally be over and that I could spend the remainder of my miserable existence in some vague semblance of peace. But it was not to be. Some things one thinks are only ever found in the movies, the sort of human characteristics that arise in certain melodramatic scenes that are supposed to show you something profound or some shit like that. I thought I knew darkness, the way Bane mentioned it (as much as I hate to make a Batman reference) but I had yet to see part of the bottom of it. Because what I now feel is a petrifying darkness, a darkness that numbs all of one's senses and reduces them to nothing. I cry out for help but I feel no peace inside. I thought I'd be stronger by now, after everything that had happened, but I'm broken like a little girl who somebody slapped before taking her favorite doll away. I feel like a child. A child that sees everything but is powerless to stop the progression of it. Except what I'm seeing is myself and my life. God help me. I need strength to carry on and I don't know how to get back up. But I'm going to try because there is something inside me that never stops saying 'you are more than this' that never stops saying 'tell me it's going to take more than this to finish you'. It says 'tell me I didn't fight this long only for you to fail me now'. But where do I turn to in my moment of panic and fear?

A promising new year.

Things have been going rather wonderfully for me since the beginning of the year. I hung out with my best friend who studies abroad and who I missed horribly, I had a great birthday, I got into college, got an A in the subject I had painstakingly studied for last year, got a new laptop as a present for recent endeavors (as my parents would put it) and basically saw all my more recent fears go off into a very big puff of smoke. As I wasn't tortured I had plenty of time to wonder why I wasn't really happy. If only it was as simple and stupid as me being the most horrible ungrateful wench in existence. Except I'm not. It is only a few days ago that I realized how detached I had become from myself, that because of unsaid things I had lost a fuse somewhere that I imagine connects one to the land of bliss and stuff.

I have one of the main characters of my book all figured out and yet I feel he must not be put into words, somehow I feel that with him out there on pages for everyone to read, I might feel compromised...like someone has died. But as life would have it, I have already been compromised in my head. With such enthusiam I had gone forth to begin a new life only to realize that the past still held me in its grasp, that it still had a claim. That no matter how hard I work or what I become, I cannot change anything. That it does not in fact change anything. Like I told someone a couple of months ago; all I can see or understand is the dark. And it's only the dark stretching before me now and it cannot end. Not ever.

On an unrelated note I fear my dog of seven years may be dying. He just has that look in his eyes, it scares me a little that I can recognize it. I told Romero to not ever die and he rubbed his furry little head against my hand as I started crying. Such beautiful creatures dogs are, not like people at all. I've been told forgiving lessens the pain, that it makes you feel better but how can one even do it? Write off things like they didn't happen, like they weren't important, like you're so healed and shit. It's not real. Forgiveness, love, peace. It's because I feel their absense that the rest of the world become more and more transient day by day. A glorious road paved with misery, leading to a new hell.

Sorry, we're closed.

Everyone knows every now and then what it means to be alone. I've felt it in one way or another my whole life. Today however I realized that I'd never really known what being alone; utterly alone ever was. Today; as I sat crying in my room it hit me with force. The understanding of it. The full extent of it. My hands were cold and my cheeks and ears were blaring red as they always are when I'm hideously angry. It doesn't happen often, I am a pinnacle of self control. I understand what it all meant but some fuse had gone off somewhere. I wasn't afraid anymore and I didn't care and I felt the lesson engraved on my heart. The lesson was that some things are not meant to be forgiven and they shouldn't be. All that crap about how it will bring you peace to forgive someone is like I said...CRAP. There is no peace and there is no humanity in these people and everyday I feel the world around me compromising who I am. And I hate them and him; all the hims. I hate them with every fibre of my being and I'm not ashamed of it and not afraid of being answerable for it. I have nothing but hatred, bitterness and ugliness inside of me and I'm not making any excuses for it anymore. There it is. At least I'm not a manipulative, pathological liar snake. I'm ugly on the inside now aren't I? But I always give fair warning so nobody should imagine things that aren't true. And that makes me better than the rest of them even now. There is nothing inside me any longer and so be it. There was never a point and there isn't one now and there was never supposed to be. What's that long lost saying one hears every now and then? 'I came from nothing so I can always go back.'

Picture bound.

Every now and then we all have formidable obstacles that we can't see ourselves climbing out of. And sometimes, for a short period of time your mind tricks yourself into thinking it is possible. It is possible to run far away where nothing of it exists and to be never haunted by it again. But the mind is treacherous; it leads you back to the very same person, to the very same scene, to the very same call in your soul that you can never entirely block out. You, my friend will never change.You will never stop what you are doing and you will never turn back or turn away. And am I to stand by and watch, for it is not the human being I care about, it is my impossible idea of the human being. Should it falter, I would fall. Should the image distort itself, a valuable part of me would be forever lost. Perhaps, after all this time; it was only ever about me. Perhaps it is the only possible way I can keep myself safe. The only possible way to survive like a clover in a hurricane. To be so against nature, so specifically inadequate and so terribly unequipped. But whatever it was, it has escaped me, my iron clad hold. It has left me despite my inherent masochism and I could not feel better than I do now; could not feel more like myself, for the first time in many many years. It is all real once more.

Eternally asleep little movie doll.

She says I'm not living in this world. the world hardly real and yet here, in front of me all the time. I know what I am not doing, I know what has not happened, I know what happened to me that made me think I could give up the future in its favor because maybe I'm not worth it but that one specimen is. The past is behind me if I'd only believe it and maybe I would if I knew where I was going. She says that the void is so vast between the life I'd grown up almost expecting and the way it's all happening. Nothing is wrong with now and I'm not dreaming but she knows me. She knows I am. Maybe without ever having even seen the cover of my journal she knows every word I have ever written in it because I said it in my mind and she heard me because she is my mother. I can't tell the difference between when the day begins or ends or when I'm dreaming my short, dull dreams. Because you see even my dreams are not dreams anymore, they are what happens all the time, what I know will happen and everything that doesn't matter like opening a door, or closing a drawer. So normal they are, so quiet, so ordinary. And when I wake up, they might as well have not happened because I can't see the difference. I can't tell the difference. Every now and then I have a slightly new dream of someone I remember before the world happened to both of us. It wasn't the world, I just wanted to see something so badly, it became real for a lifelong minute there. So real that I devoted myself to it. It wasn't even an idea, it wasn't an opinion, it wasn't that feeling you feel when you know someone, it wasn't my creation, how could it have been. And yet there it is on eternal rewind in the back of my head and when I'm asleep it's always there because it cannot reach me during the day when my mind is otherwise painfully engaged. I remember it like a fantasy movie I saw as a kid and then dreamt about it for years and years. Sometimes you never ever even find out the name of that movie because it had an unknown cast, it's old and you just don't remember enough of anything. That movie is forever lost but it never leaves you. It plays and plays and you can't be sure it wasn't real. Who is to say that I didn't see all of that, and that it did not really happen? Who are they to know anything of what I am.Was it real, for a second there? How could I have come so far, lost so much for something that is entirely something else? She says 'let it go', 'forget'. But I have forgotten. Forgotten too much. And then you have to wake in the middle of the night to realize your old dreams are entirely lost to you and that they cannot live again just like you, cannot ever wake up again.

Callings once born.

Ah, Eid. Never quite figured it out. Didn't have a real fascination for the money, one can only stuff themselves so much you know, and you're also a frizzy humidity-struck mess with shiny clothes you don't give a damn about. I hate most holidays...interesting. And don't even ask what I think about my birthday. It's cursed, I'm absolutely certain. 5th January, dead cold, people dying everywhere (drama intended) and a pale girl decides to be born. Pale yet pink and screaming bloody murder.

Work is getting harder and infinitely more irritating. My fingers have cramps and the veins stick out all funny. They're even slightly swollen I think. But I can't give it up now can I. Makes me important it does. Important, skilled...aloof, silly. More than anything I have a sick, incurable hatred inside me that is fuelled by dread. Wasn't made for hate, it zaps my resources. I'm in a chronic bad mood all the time and I just fight with myself to study. No getting into college without a good grade in this subject. I'm no academic genius but blasphemous as it might sound, I pride myself on it. There's no shortage of pea brain, intellect-deprived asses out there with all As in their O and A levels, in fact they seem to grow on trees, bushes more like. But I need that grade right now and I'll do whatever I must to get it.

I want a different life for myself. I want to be far away. I want enough temporary obscurity so that when I come out, I can be who I was supposed to be. When I finally win over this, I want them all to think I never knew weakness at all. Or pain. That I was immune to it, better than them, always better. As if I don't see how they look at me now, searching desperately for a weak point, their beady black eyes looking at me from top to bottom with a strange inner voice.

I have a plan. Sort of what Kira had in the end of 'we the living'. Sure, she ended up shot dead before she made it but it's still worth having isn't it. Life is so long and tedious and the world is so ugly and the people in it worthless. What else does one do with all the time?

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.