How bad is it?

You want to know how bad it is. It is so bad that if you tell me that my mom is going to be fine after I leave then I will leave.

What do I mean by leaving? Exactly when you’re thinking. I don’t like the s-word anymore. It’s so overused that it has lost its meaning and kids tend to throw it around like it’s a joke. It’s not. At least not for me.

You know I don’t really care about my dad. He is a strong independent man and he knows how to conceal his emotions. He will be okay even without me by his side.

My brother? My baby brother. He is only 18. He will grow up to be a great man and he will tell people about me and how I was the reason he turned out to be that great guy.

My sister? She’s trying to get pregnant. She’ll have a baby. That baby.. my niece or nephew s/he will distract her. She’ll be over me soon.

But my mom, my mom she’s gonna spend the rest of her life thinking where she went wrong. She is gonna struggle to sleep at night because she is gonna keep thinking where did she fall short that her baby-girl ended up in a hospital bed and finally six-feet under.

So now you know how bad it is.

It is so bad that if you tell me my mom is gonna be okay when I leave then I’m gonna leave.


My Midnight Friend

He likes to be the alpha male and he is very good at it. When he is sober he is not just good at concealing his emotions but also at not feeling them. But there is an air of melancholy about his blood-shot red drunk eyes as if he is significantly more experienced than all of us on the outside but morbidly worn out inside. He is my midnight friend. He is the new sound of water dripping in the sink.

I find comfort in the smell of alcohol lingering on his clothes, sleeping to the sound of him snoring and silently seeing him vanish from the worldly dimension while in company of many and then coming back to life upon hearing his name being called by one of us.

I have often seen him whirl into nonexistence among the crowd of drunk college students without any warning but  he always comes back for me. And, when my eyes meet his gaze from across the room full of multicolored clouds of smoke I know it is time to head home. And then I make him reconsider our friendship by demanding a hug after every two minutes in my slurry babbling speech. He complies and gives me warm hugs in the middle of the cold campus of our college. I know he finds me cute when my eyelids are heavy with sleepiness but my will to stay up and talk to him is heavier. I can see he enjoys taking care of me. But he can’t see how I look at him when we are alone.

He is my midnight friend because as soon as the sun rises and I leave his warm bed we move oceans and deserts apart. We’re two different worlds who only collide after the clock hits 12.


Remembering my Late Best Friend

It was a very cold December night when I received a news that shattered me into so many pieces that even after six years of trying to put myself together piece by piece I still don’t feel whole.

I have a vivid memory of that day. I can still hear my sister telling me that my best friend passed away. I remember gasping for air but still not being able to breathe. I still remember the coldness from the bathroom floor creeping up into my bones as I tried to sleep there instead of my bed because my room smelled like him. I wanted to get away from him, his memories and his scent because for some reason despite dying he was still there. I remember my family telling me that you don’t die with the dead. But I think I died a little that day.

I have always been proficient in writing but when it comes to him I struggle to formulate sentences that can encompass the grief I feel every time he crosses my mind. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t looked for him in the strangers around me, I still look out the window while driving past our old school’s playground where we had so many fights over volley ball, I still listen to his favorite songs religiously and I still watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S and try to recall the parts that used to make him laugh. I miss him so much.

I remember being so angry after he left. I was just so angry at him for choosing to walk through the light over me and at myself for not telling him what he really meant to me. For not telling him that he was actually a good singer, that he actually had a great shoe collection and that when I scrunched my nose in resentment after he booped it it was an act because I secretly liked it.

Although I get better and stronger everyday he still lives somewhere in the back of my mind. I just hope whoever reads this learns that it is important to hold your loved ones close. Tell them you love them today and everyday.


Happiness Comes and Goes but Sadness Stays

Ay, in the very temple of Delight

Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine

John Keats

The fact that I have always experienced emotions in the form of episodes says a lot about why I think this might be one of the best things Keats has written. To me sadness comes  in the form of continuous torrents of torment one after the other but happiness. Ah, felicity has always been like the waves of the ocean that die once they crash the shore.

Because, happiness comes and goes but sadness stays.



Loneliness is that one feeling that I have experienced my whole life. Sometimes because I was alone but most of the times when I was with a crowd of people.

I remember feeling lonely on my ninth birthday. I can still recall hearing at least 17 people in the room singing happy birthday to me and all I could feel was sad because I felt lonely. This feeling followed me throughout my teenage years. I waited for University to begin so that I could escape from that gloomy little city of Muzaffarabad and live in the happiest place of Pakistan, Islamabad. But the feeling didn’t go away even when I started university in Islamabad. Despite having the best English language teachers in the country who commended me for my performance in class and living with three wonderful roommates who made me laugh so much that my tummy would hurt, I felt lonely.

The only time that I didn’t feel lonely was when I was reading a book. Because by reading a book I could be someone else for at least three hours every day. Those books taught me if I wait patiently and fight bravely, I will get my happy ending. I thought coming to U.S would be the beginning of my happy ending. It’ll be a chance for me to be the protagonist of one of best stories that I will be the writer of. But all I feel is lonely. I guess it is true that you can’t expect to feel whole by changing your home because wherever you go you take yourself with you. The loneliness lies within you not around you.


An Exchange Student with No Friends

The scenes that I always used to see through the television screen I am living within them right now. I can’t even begin to explain how enormously privileged I felt when I found out that I had availed the scholarship that almost everyone around me was obsessed with. Well, thanks to this degree-exchange program, I am getting the chance to live in United States for free and I get pocket money for basically doing nothing.

I was a bit skeptical about coming to Ohio Northern University solely because I read on Wikipedia that it was situated in a small village of Ada. The thought of living in a village terrified me as I wanted to be a part of city life and do things like visit target, go to Jonas Brothers’ concert, go whale watching , skydive and whatnot. Now that I think about it the village of Ada is like a serene painting that a painter would carefully construct if he was asked to describe the sensation of peace visually. Everyone is extremely helpful and nice but I am still not doing great when it comes to making friends as compared to other International students. If you ask me about my friends then I will tell you that in the previous two weeks I have befriended six South Asian students, bunch of ducks, a lot of fish and two black swans. Something tells me most of my friends like me because I bring them bread and rest of them hangout with me because I am weird. We are all Asians but I fascinate them with my extraordinary ability to complain about everything and my superpower to trip over air. They find it extremely assuming that I have been to the health centre on campus twice already.

I still have 16 weeks till I go back to Pakistan and I am sure that my family will not be happy when they will see the gallery of phone filled with pictures of animals instead of humans. Instead of returning home as an exchange student with no friends I think it’s time I initiate conversation with fellow Homo sapiens.IMG-4563

Picture: PAC lake at Ohio Northern University

First Time in United States| UGRAD x IREX

It’s been quite some time since I have written something here but I have a good reason for that. I landed an international scholarship so I am in United States right now.

Oh, it was a journey. 23 hours of travelling and I’m pretty sure I head-butted the guy next to my seat twice and once while sleeping I caressed his foot with mine. ( I know CREEPY but I was sleepy and his foot was warm)

A little information about the program that I applied in:

So through IREX U.S government conducts cultural exchange programs in which students from different countries come to U.S to experience the culture, study and travel. It’s fully funded and there are a lot of countries that are eligible for this. In Washington D.C I met a lot of people who were enrolled in these programs like people from Turkey, Iraq, Bangladesh but their programs had different names. So the program for Pakistan is UGRAD sponsored by USEFP but you can look for the alternatives for your country and make the best of memories all for free.

This year out of 14,000 applicants only 135 made it so if you have leadership qualities and you can summarize them in 250 words then you should definitely write the essay and hope for the best. I can totally review your essays just comment in below and I’ll give you my personal email.

Although I think that my blog has been dead for too long so there’s less possibility of this post reaching a lot of my followers.


I’ll be uploading more about this and my journey so if you have any questions you can flood the comment section.



My Encounter with Evil

I’m writing this, with a shattered heart, hoping that getting it out of my system will lessen the hurt. Today, I’ve finally come to know what the worst kind of person in the world is like— he’s the one who takes advantage of someone else’s helplessness, he’s the one who recites a kalma (religious mouthpiece) before making a promise and then breaks it as if he’s unafraid of God’s wrath, he’s the person who doesn’t believe in the strength of a badua (prayer for karma)  made from a pair of trembling lips, he’s the one who has a mad sense of superiority that makes him lack the sensation of guilt when he tramples everyone around him.

And you, all of you bystanders who watch him do all this, you aren’t better than him either.

Today’s the day I’ve finally run out of forgiveness.
Today is the day I openly declare that I have no faith left in humans and human relationships.
Today is the day, with my gleaming teary eyes, I look up at the sky and instead of whispering a prayer, I scream a curse.
Today is the day you reduced me from a philanthropist into a misanthropist.
You didn’t just break me you also shattered my will to grow into a strong independent woman who’d serve humanity in every way possible.

If humans are like you then I don’t wanna help them.

Is this what People Call Happiness?

It’s been quite some time since I wrote sad poetry on my skin with sharp objects. I don’t feel the barbed wire around my neck right now, and I can almost take a lungful of breath without feeling like I’ve been holding it for years. I don’t feel like all the air in the world is trying to suffocate me, anymore. It’s like, lately, I do not feel like me; sad, broken me.

What is it? Are the dark days of my life over? Is it dawn already, and the sun is finally peeking through those mountains of depression and anxiety to shine its light on my crusty venom-ridden skin? Do I not have to sleep with one eye open, in the fear of being attacked in the pitch-black dark, from now on? Are those demons that I used to see just shadows of the beautiful things around me?

I don’t feel threatened and broken anymore.

Is this what people call happiness?