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.


Farewell 2018!

And when the ball fell

And the Fireworks lit up the sky

Everyone had someone to hold

There I stood all alone


2018 had been the best year of my life.

We have already talked about how time is just an abstract thing created to keep track of our days and nights. 1st January is the same as any other day of the year. But this year I have something different to say, something not pessimistic as expected from me.

Whatever 2018 was for the world, I believe it was the best year of my life, by far. This doesn’t mean that it was an easy year. I must admit I have a list of tragic things that happened to me this year from break down of my mental health to extreme exercise of self-harm, loss of people that I didn’t think I could live without to loss of my own self. But here I am standing taller than ever. Now I know what they meant when they meant what they said what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Dear 2018,

You were a threat to my mental health; you made me saner than ever.

You came as a poison; killed me to make me more alive than I’ve ever been.

You took away all the people that I loved; you taught me to love myself.

You were throbbing with challenges; you made me an over-comer.

You hit me where I was the weakest; I stand tall as a mountain now.

You rushed in as a mob weakening me; you left me standing alone, but strong.

You came as the worst year of my life; you left as the best.

With Love,

An over-comer.

Masochist; when it comes to your Love

I write to let go

What is it about you

That writing only doubles the ache?

Your presence is like a barbed wire around my neck, the more I try to liberate myself from the thought of you the deeper the wire cuts into my neck, I feel it piercing throw my windpipe and every night I end up on the cold hard ground trying to gasp for air__ that you stole from me.

I’m unsure if it’s you or the pain that you put me through that I’m addicted to. After all, the melancholy residing inside my head and the tragically graceful scars carved on my skin have become my identity. What will remain of me if one day I decide to let go of you? Let go of the hurt, pain and suffering you put me through?

Maybe, I’m just afraid of change. Maybe, I’m afraid of being happy as I’m a virgin to the sensation of felicity. I’m scared of leaving behind the mass of imperial affliction that you used to fill the void inside of my heart with. Maybe, I’m just afraid that once I get rid of this ache the void will be reformed in the very centre of my heart.

You know when you’re drowning, you hold your breath because you’re aware that if you let go the water will fill your lungs and it’ll stop hurting once and for all. Holding on is just agonizing the pain but you don’t wanna find peace instead you wanna prolong the suffering so that you have more time to be rescued. Just like that I’m drowning in your love and I know holding on is more painful than letting go but I’m just not ready to find peace.

Being in love with you is like watching all the four walls caving in on me but there’s no escape so I just stand here waiting to be crushed. I’m a masochist when it comes to your love. I’d rather breathe in the cancer ridden cigarette smoke of your existence and die as an addict to the malady that you are.

My best friend wanted me to write about addiction to a love that hurts like hell. I tried to feel every word that I typed, hope you guys will like it.

I feel like this is something a drug addict would say… but isn’t love kind of a drug?

Anxiety and the Pressure to Be Perfect

The feeling that you have failed the people who blindly believed in you even more than you yourself did is agonizing. The only thing worse than this is being belittled by the same people who once used to glorify you, betting that you would be very successful one day.

After practically failing every trial that my life threw at me I somehow ended up in NUML (National University of Modern Languages) and this led to the renaissance of my inner artist, innovator & knowledge seeker. The only thing that I had in my mind was that I had to BE someone, not just anyone___ someone. I didn’t do really amazing in my first semester as I was really distracted by family issues, counseling and adapting a new environment. In the second semester, I felt this pressure that I call pressure to be perfect. I was at a stage where I overestimated the need of being perfect overlooking the fact that the state of “perfection” doesn’t really exist in real life. So I commenced my quest of perfection.

Perfect Daughter

Perfect Student

Perfect Friend

Perfect Classmate

Perfect Human

You might think this effort of achieving perfection probably led me to betterment but no, it ended up in me being deprived of the sensation that you get when you’re living in the moment because all I would do was think about my future and imagine it in my head. Hence, I developed the sickest anxiety accompanied by recurring panic attacks and somewhat partial insomnia.

During the final exam of 2nd semester, a teacher started yelling “STOP WRITING… THE TIME IS OVER!!” (That teacher was somewhat a scary looking, big-mouthed over-efficient lady) This induced an uncanny sensation of shivering in my right arm that remained for three months. Finally, I went to the doctor and she told me they were stressed induced tremors due to anxiety. She told me I had been holding too much inside me for too long and it was about time that, like a can of coke that has been shaken vigorously, I burst out all the things that I had been keeping inside for last decade and a half.

After this it was a period of recurring nightmares, tremors in my limbs, self-harm, panic attacks ,almost throwing up in front of hundreds of guests on my sister’s wedding, burning myself with iron/ presser, numbness in my body when someone would disagree with me and the urge to hurt the people around me (I even almost hit a friend with a brick but I honestly think that was not because of my mental health instead it was because he was annoying)

Currently, I’m taking medication and I take weekly therapy. I feel better now.

Now I know, you don’t have to be perfect, to err is human and we all are beautiful humans who learn from their mistakes. This is just how life works. If someone demands perfection from you then tell them that you’re a human not an animated character that does, perfectly, what it is made to do___ entertain others and satisfy their appetite for joy.

Now, I know my weaknesses and imperfections.

I know I can’t change my past and the effects it had on me. I can’t go back and turn all the wrongs into rights. I know I was meant to be here and I am. I’ve learnt to accept my failures that led me to this position and this university surrounded by the people who are amazing in one way or another…. And there’s no where else I’d rather be.


I Hope 2018

Although time is just an abstract concept created by humans in order to keep track of scenarios taking place in the world, new year still holds a very significant place in all of our lives. Hence I pray;

Before the clock strikes twelve tonight I hope you learn to accept the fact that doing the things we swore we’d never do is a part of growing up; an essential part.

So I hope that you forgive yourself for the actions that you recall as mistakes from your past, I hope you forget the reason that you beat yourself down and deem yourself incapable of standing back up. I hope you learn that you’re alive and that’s a big deal. I hope you learn that you’re self-sufficient and you don’t need no one else in the world. Know that friendship is irrelevant and is an obstacle in the way to your betterment. (Okay, maybe this one’s only for me)

I hope you know that your own will to live to your fullest must be the ultimate necessity for your survival. I hope that in this world of predators the last thing you choose to be is a prey.

Something New, Something Special. (Part-2/2)

“What have they done to deserve this affliction?”

“What have I done to deserve these privileges?”


This question is akin to questioning the very existence of our universe.

Like, Why did God make this world so colourful when the world could easily survive being monochromatic?

Why are there four states of matter when He could just make a single state & bless us with the strength to survive in it?

Why are there so many skin colours due to which white men are claimed to be superior & black inferior whereas brown skinned people like us are standing somewhere in between but still closer to latter.

It’s futile to ask such questions because a human brain isn’t developed enough to interpret the sagacity behind Almighty’s creation.

What if I tell you God has made us different looking forward to the day when the difference won’t matter and we’ll be humans first and rest of the things later?

It’s true we can’t control the natural casualties but what about the man-made catastrophe? Instead of debating that which President & PM will be better to improve our country how about we become the figures to improve not just our country but the world.

-Guys, it’s time we save a bit money from our pocket money for the people who sleep hungry at night.

-It’s time we volunteer to provide assistance & coordination in different orphanages & hospitals.

-It’s time we stop treating victims like they’re victims & start applauding them for being survivors.

-It’s time we stop letting money, colour and creed define our compatibility with others.

-It’s time we promote love by respecting each other’s differences and over-looking them when necessary.

-It’s time we stop depending on Trump, Clinton, Modi, Khan or Shareef for change and become the change.

-It’s time we start something new, something special. 

What Have I Done To Deserve This? (Part-1/2)

Here’s the thing I’m not a good person, never was & probably never will be but I’m sitting under a roof safe and sound with food to eat and clothes to wear. While me and so many people like me are enjoying these privileges..

-A child downtown is being abused..

-Somewhere in the neighborhood a family is sleeping hungry because they can’t afford food for tonight..

-The woman next door is a victim of constant domestic violence..

-Somewhere someone’s daughter is holding a blade to her wrist..

-Somewhere in the world an innocent woman is being rapped..

-Somewhere near me a sick minded person is abusing an animal for his own benefits..

-Somewhere a pair of teenage siblings has become a pair of orphans due to a car crash..

-In the hospital downtown a  teenager has lost his battle with cancer..

Terrible, terrible inevitable things are happening while I sit here safe and sound oblivious of the chaos around me..

But tonight is one of those nights when the void inside my chest is deeper, more painful and hollower than ever.

Tonight I sit here thinking 

“What have they done to deserve this affliction?”

But the more relatable question is

“What have I done to deserve these privileges?”

I can’t find the answer and my mind is as blank as the void in my chest because I am not at all a better human than those people then why the difference?
Part#2 will be up soon.

My Redemption

I woke up to the banging sound of my window. I realized it was a little too windy outside. I got up and locked it.

I love wind. I mean I think it’s the only thing that actually has the tendency to blow away one’s mind and that includes all the worries, miseries and tensions residing in that mind. Remember the scene in titanic where Jack and Rose spread their arms, standing at the edge of the ship and felt like they were flying? yeah, that’s how I feel every time it’s windy outside. I just wanna spread my arms in the air and yell at the top of my lungs whatever comes to my mouth. I remember doing that with two of my friends while I stood over a flyover passing over one of the main roads. We cursed out loud and burst into fits of laughter. I felt so relieved that I didn’t wanna leave but eventually it started raining and I ran back home. That’s the thing about rain. It comes in like an unbidden visitor and ruins everything. Anyway I made a cup of coffee and went to the front terrace of my apartment.  That was the moment I stared at the sky and I could see the clouds cutting themselves loose like a woman coming to a bar to have drinks after a long day at work.

“Why do I hate rain?” I asked myself.

There are people all around the world praying for rain but I just don’t want a single raindrop to touch my skin.. I see it like the sky is crying. I’d never let myself get drenched in someone else’s tears.

As much as I like wind I love thundering more. The thing about thundering is that it feels like the sky is screaming and I don’t know why but for me screaming is hundred times better than crying. Screaming is a result of aggression or something but tears mean you’re weak. At least that’s what I used to think. I was afraid of being declared as a weak person that everything that had even minor signs of weakness had me running miles away from them. My friends thought of me as the strongest girl they ever got to meet hence I made a petty image in my head that how being strong was the only option and how one was safer with one’s guards always up.

I looked up at the sky and saw the lady in the bar ready to order her drinks but I wasn’t ready for that mental torture that the world thought of as “blessing” so I just stood there and prayed it won’t rain but as I saw the rain drops falling on the ground like stones being thrown at the humans living below by the superior people in the sky, each drop falling on the ground like a predator inserting its teeth in its pray I closed my eyes for what seemed like eternity and tried to absorb the idea that everything around me was crying and I had to tell myself to be okay with it.

I remember thinking,,

Everything is crying. Why is everything crying? Are they crying out of pain? Are they crying out of loss or something else?  How do I stop the crying? What does it take to make a whole blanket of fluffy cotton clouds in the distant dark sky to stop crying? For a minute there, I felt a rain inside my head that had over-flooded my mind with thoughts.

Maybe these thoughts come to me because of my bipolar syndrome or my OCD but I know these thoughts are always there but in that very moment they were killing me.

How do you stop the sky from crying? You don’t.

Sometimes you can’t stop the pain, the crying, the suffering. All you can do is share the pain, the crying and the suffering. Sometimes you have to be a shoulder to cry on for someone else. Sometimes you just can’t do anything but be drenched in something that you don’t like and just hope for it to go away. So I just stood there letting the raindrops fall on my face and I stood there telling the crying sky “I’m here for you”. I allowed myself to get wet in order to share the sky’s pain and when the sky was done crying and I was done getting soaked I felt one thing “redemption”

I had freed myself from the fear and the hatred I had for being weak. I was as free as the birds flying in the sky after the rain stopped falling. I redeemed myself from the thoughts that my OCD and bipolarity had brought with them.


A Sad Song With A Happy Chorus.

We were walking back from that famous cafe nobody visited anymore. Wedding music was playing in the background because there was a ceremony going on almost 5 feet away from the table that we had taken about 3 minutes ago. I remember we exited the cafe and walked to your car. I opened the door for myself and sat there next to you. It was dark but I could see you smile that beautiful smile of yours. Your hands gripping the steering wheel. My legs trembling like a one-way earthquake. We smiled, we laughed.. we exchanged gestures. We even accidentally drove into  a graveyard and I thought maybe that happened because you were too into me but it actually happened because we couldn’t figure out how to use the GPS. Finally after roaming for another 10 minutes we reached my neighborhood there you dropped me off in that dark street to walk back home. I never told you I accidentally walked into the wrong street and it took me extra five minutes to find home. As I was roaming through the dark streets blinded by the headlights of the cars passing me by, something inside me had changed and suddenly I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I thought everything was okay. I thought maybe this was the stitch in time that’d save nine. I thought maybe, just maybe the cloudy sadness will vacate my head. I thought maybe just maybe it’ll be okay.

I could not have been more wrong.

I remember fragments. Rest I have forgotten. No maybe I just didn’t want to remember. Someone like you- Adele. You Ruined Me- The Veronicas. Blurred Vision. Stingy tears. Hiding my face in the pillow. 8 cuts on the wrist or maybe 11 or 14, maybe less. No text from my best friend. Numbness in my body. Tears like a cascade flowing effortlessly. 

As I laid there on the cold, hard ground I learnt a lesson. A lesson that I wish I didn’t learn. A lesson like a thunderstorm​ flashing above my sad empty town of tears and broken hearts. I learnt that when they said “it won’t be hard” they didn’t mean “it’ll be easy”.. I learnt that the only shoulder that I can cry on is mine and the idea of relating my happiness with someone else’s temporary attention, lust, mood or happiness is absurd. I learnt that the only love that I need is self-love.

So this isn’t a “screw you” note or even worse “I hope you die alone” note. It’s a thank you note that says thank you for teaching me something no one else could teach. Thank you for giving me the strength to bear the pain that I used to have nightmares of. Thank you for making me a self-sufficient woman. Now I know the strongest weapon that I have is Me, Myself and I.

It’s okay, life is a tough crowd.

Suicide and Regret..

She’s running as fast as she can, out of breath gasping loudly. Her thundering footsteps can be heard from half a mile away. Her hair pulled back and face as pale as the sun on a scorching noon. The tears dripping from her eyes making her vision blurrier and foggier.

She reaches home, runs upstairs and rushes into her room like a ragging storm. Slamming the door behind her she collapses on the floor and stays there for what seemed like forever. The carpet hair brushing against her left cheek while her eyes are busy in the task of pouring rain upon them. Her gaze is fixed and her eyes are not moving. If someone would see her like that they would think that she has passed out. The time bomb starts ticking in her head. She starts feeling worthless, ugly, unimportant… anything but beautiful and valuable. Her wrists start itching again for the seventh time in this week and it is only Wednesday.

As she’s struggling to get on her knees, her eyes shift to a brownish splotch on the carpet near her. She narrows her eyes to get a vivid image of whatever that spot is.

“What’s that?” she asks herself.

She crawls closer to the stain and looks at it carefully.

“Blood…” the word comes out of her mouth.

She remembers that was the place where she collapsed yesterday just like this and then she cut herself to bleed out the frustration at that very spot. It was like déjà vu. That’s what was happening to her over and over again. She had been told by people on internet that she would get better but she never felt like she was recovering or improving because she was not the one at fault it was the people surrounding her who were. She recollects the time when she got blood on the corner of her white bed sheet and had to clean the whole thing; the time Sierra sat in her lap and the freshly harmed thighs started bleeding through the band-aids and the blood caressed the inside of her favorite blue jeans to the point that it was almost visible.

“Thank God Mom didn’t see it though…” she thought.

Suddenly a recurring thought of hers visited her again. She thought her Mom wouldn’t care in fact no one would. She thought her family was better off without her. This thought had started becoming stronger after the day she talked to her mother about this.

“Get over it sweetie. It’s just hormonal and yeah you’re in your teenage. It happens to most of the girls your age. It’s common you’ll be fine.” Mother said.

“But Maa, it’s a mental illness and mental illness requires medical help. There’s something wrong with me.” She replied.

“That’s just a phase of teenage where girls do all this to get attention and honey I think you’re just craving attention because “depression is the new cool” right? Just go to your room and do your homework”

She’s brought back from the afflicting memories by the sound of her cat, Eleanor scratching her door. She opens the door and lets her in. The cat jumps to the bed and she lies beside her.

“Hey Ellie! You love me, right?” She asks stroking her soft fur.

“Right Ell?”

The cat lets out a meow.

“I love you too Eleanor” she says as her voice cracks.

“I’m living a slow painful death…” she whispers “One day I’ll be able to end it all at once instead of bleeding slowly to death everyday… ”

She stands up and looks at herself in the mirror. The image of an ugly-outside-broken-inside girl staring back at her. She walks to the washroom door and stands there for a moment and stares at Eleanor with tears in her eyes she says “Ell You’re my only friend…” as she closes the door to never open it again.

She finally was brave enough to end the throbbing pain all at once.


As the stimuli that provoked her death wrote R.I.P on her facebook timeline.

Author’s Note: When someone tells you about their condition don’t abandon them just because you don’t understand what they feel because how can the sun know what darkness feels like? You might be happy and healthy. Everyone isn’t like that. Don’t just tell them to get over it instead help them recover. It’s better to walk through hell with someone who needs you than to wander in heaven uselessly.

And my dear friends I am not promoting suicide. I want to minimize it. I’ve said it before I’ll say it again