Tuesday, 17 December 2013

This is just a reminder I think all of us need once in a while:
You can do whatever the fuck you want. The question is should you, or shouldn't you?

Monday, 16 December 2013


I haven’t been good at anything lately. Not good at reading or writing, or watching, or walking, or talking, or being friends, or being social, or being headstrong, or being loved, or being able to be me. I’m not good at anything anymore. I’ve lost the sense of life I had. It’s even hard to just get up in the morning and convince myself to brush my teeth and get something to eat, because all I ever want to do is collapse on the bed and die for a while.
I say I want to die but I’m so afraid of death at the same time. I’m afraid of its inevitability, I’m afraid of how death is even harder than being alive, and that’s just something I’m not prepared for. Yet I go about every single day, pretending that there won’t be a day that’ll be my last.
I feel like I’m not going to be able to make it. I’m lying under a huge pile of emotional stress that I just cannot take. I complain, and whine, and don’t deal with life. I’m not the good person, though.
Don’t mistake this for self-pity, this is self-hatred. This is hatred of life. This is what immaturity looks like. This is what sensitivity looks like. This is what weakness and depression and cowardice looks like. Nobody ever speaks of this side of the world. Nobody talks about the people who fall and can’t get back up; the world doesn’t talk about the hurt and the injured. Or the people who dig their own damn holes, and fall, and blame everyone else around them for it – we did not ask for this – we have lost our self-control. This is our fate, and we have given up on it.
We forget there aren’t always happy endings for everyone; love isn’t promised to you – life is not a destination, it is the journey; and nobody tells you that it hurts like hell. It hurts like hell and after a while the hurting fades away but it doesn’t heal. Time does not heal anything.
I’m still hoping for my little magical moment, but the thing is every time I fly, I find myself falling just as fast, just as hard as my wings brushed against the soaring wind – life ends. Life ends.

This is not a planned out article or anything. This is me complaining to a blank page of paper. No sympathizer quite like it.

Saturday, 30 November 2013

Do you wanna know?

I was talking to my dad today, when he was trying to convince me to get out of the hotel (we're in Dubai, but more on that later) and go out with them, and I guess I was really pissed at the time because I said something like, "You know what's really annoying? The fact that you keep striving higher and higher and higher, and keep hoping for things to be better tomorrow. You deal with your shit today so that you won't have any to deal with when you're older. But you do. It never works, you keep trying to keep the bullshit out of your life, but that is your life. And I'm just so sick of it. Sick of believing things are going to get better, but they never really do."
Okay, it is possible I didn't say exactly that, but something along those lines.

Most of the things I want to say are so crazy, I doubt any of my followers will actually want to read it, or be interested. Who wants to listen to the rants of a fucked-up fourteen-year-old?

And no, I'm not the fourteen-year-old that everyone images when I mention my age, and I'm so sick of people generalizing. I have literally no tolerance for people who generalize. This applies in all aspects of life, mind you, so don't even.

The problem is, and this is really just me starting off from wherever because this is not something I can periodically explain, nobody has hurt me. I doubt anybody has ever really hurt me. Except for myself. I've hurt myself the most. Not physically, of course. But I've just always made things worse for me. Sometimes I wonder if I want to be in shitty situations because I put myself in some so often. I need saving from myself. Somebody to tell me, "Adeena, you're ruining your life. You are pulling the trigger yourself." Somebody who can make me look at life from a rational point of view. It's crazy that I couldn't do it without losing some of the closest people in my life.

"How do you feel?"

Is there a way somebody can run away from themselves? Because, I'm up for anything right now.
Whatever. This is such a pointless post.

Saturday, 23 November 2013

I already said too much. I already shared too much, and I want all my secrets back. I hate getting close to people these days, I always regret sharing too much, caring too much, doing too much, feeling too much.

A letter to my "best friend"

Dear friend,

We became friends because you wanted to 'help' me. I didn't want helping. I didn't want saving. I was the saviour. The saviour doesn't need saving.
I was broken and lost and waiting to be found, and yes, you, by all means, found me.
But you made me admit something was wrong. You made me a victim. You made me a slave to my misery which I had chosen to ignore before.
Depression isn't something you can cure with an "I love you," and an, "It'll be okay."
This depression makes me an outsider, an outcast, a loner, a nobody, a freak.
Depression isn't something you can make me feel guilty about.
I have zero control over myself.
And you thinking that you could change the way I feel is utter bullshit.
Me opening up to you is utter bullshit, because at the end of the day, what do you know about dealing with a suicidal friend? About as much as I know about being depressed. And I know zilch.
I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to push you away.
I've dealt with a difficult friend, too. I admit, I was not always there to save her, but I never pushed her off the edge.
Lately, I don't know which side you're on.
I don't know what you want.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I never wanted you to hurt me either.
I opened up to you, and I hate myself for it because I expected you to understand, but you didn't. You're just a good listener.
You are so beyond stupid it frustrates me because I just don't even understand how somebody could be this fucking daft. You write poetry about great big things - love, desire, prejudice, lust, hope, longing, life - but you understand none of it. You know how to string words together to make them sound beautiful but you do not understand these feelings. You've never seemed more fake to me.
All you've ever made me was not okay.
Come and visit me sometime on this side of the bridge. We'll talk then.
But for now, I am done, 'friend'.
I am done.

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

I’m heartbroken, and I’m lost, I’m confused. I spend my days trying to convince myself I’m not crazy, and I fail almost every time. I force myself to be social, to have friends, and I want somebody to care, but I’m so in conflict with myself because I would much rather be alone. I would much rather sit at home and read a book, and lead a quiet life but then there is so much to see and so much to say, and so much to do, and I’m scared. I’m frightened because I don’t know how far I’ll go, and I don’t know how far I’m willing to go, I don’t know how far I can go. I thought I was a good writer but I’m not even that anymore. I’m not beautiful. I’m not smart. I know the world, but what achievement is that? I don’t want you to fight for me - I want you there, but I don’t want you to fight for me. I deserve more. I deserve more. Most days I’m just here. I’m trying. I’m fighting. I’m unsure, and broken. I’m the silhouette of the person I want to be, and I’m fighting to make myself believe I deserve better, I deserve lots, I am a good person, I am worthy of love, I am not crazy, I am not a disappointment. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay, right?

Sunday, 20 October 2013

“I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and
float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the
But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning.
There will be no floating away.”

— Khaled Hosseini

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

let's talk about adeena...

I'm easily influenced. If I genuinely like you and spend a lot of time with you, after a while you'll start getting comments like, 'Wow, man, Adeena laughs just like you.'
Hmm, Adeena does.
That makes me question who I am sometimes. But then I think about it, and all the people I've ever met have made such an impression on me. All the people I've ever made acquaintance with are probably responsible for who I am today, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. But that's just me, I pick up on other people's  habits, and the way they talk, and the way they push their hair back behind their ears, or how they clear their throat before they speak, just things like that, and at one point or the other, they sort of start defining me.
Maybe that's why it hurts me so much when people leave me, I lose a part of myself and for a while I'm just lost, I forget who I am.
I've noticed this about my penmanship, too. It used to be like my science and social studies teacher in 4th grade, and then my English teacher in 5th grade, my mom in 6th grade. And now, it's just a lot more me.
And I can't wait for that to happen to me. I used to be like my friends in 4th grade, then my friends in grades 6 through 8, and in 9, the populars, who happen to be my friends.
But then there's my best friend. My best friend, who I love, but his name's always on my tongue, I'm always thinking about him, and because of him I'm friends with so many more people now, I'm exposed to so many more things, and I'm glad, but I think that's taking away who I am. I depend on him too much.
And I know how that turns out, we get closer, and closer, and I depend on him for everything, he's my go-to person for everything. I'm not sure if that's bad, but I need to meet new people. Just for me, not because I don't want to be friends with him, but because I need to stop depending on others, and I need to start being my own person.

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Stand at my grave and weep

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,   
I am not there; I do not sleep.
                    I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
                    I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
                    When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry, 
I am not there; I did not die."

--Mary Elizabeth Frye. 

Tuesday, 3 September 2013


Is stabbing myself in the throat a poetic way to die?
Is drowning in a barrel of wine a poetic way to die?
Is having a bullet barricade through my skull a poetic way to die?
What is a poetic death, anyway?
Isn’t the fact that just the heart falls, but the rest of the body follows poetic enough?
Isn’t the fact that my lungs ran out of air to breathe poetic enough?
My heart and lungs drove all the words I had to left to say away,

Isn’t that poetic enough? 

--Written by yours truly, XOXO.

Monday, 12 August 2013

I never realized what a big deal that was. How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head.
— Nina LaCour

Sunday, 11 August 2013

But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin.
— Aldous Huxley

Saturday, 20 July 2013

I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.
Ferdinand Von Schrubentauffrt

Wednesday, 26 June 2013

I go through phases. Somedays I feel like the person I’m supposed to be, and then somedays, I turn into no one at all. There is both me and my silhouette. I hope that on the days you find me and all I am are darkened lines, you still are willing to be near me.
— Mary Kate Teske

heaven is a place on earth

i really, really just want to see this for real. 

Friday, 21 June 2013

smile for me, darling.

i'm smiling like a retard typing this for no reason at all.
i'm happy. a strange kind of happy, really.
but i'm sleepy. and i'm listening to my favourite kind of music.
i met this friend of mine after a long time today, since she's back in Karachi, YAY.
i'm so happy about that. it was so much fun catching up with her. we haven't changed one bit.
and i really don't know, it's a carefree kinda time of night and state of mind.
right after i came home from my friend's house, i took a shower, a cold shower with music on, and boy, was that fun. after the shower, i ate a leftover samosa, watched the remaining bit of The Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants 2, and went off to sleep.
it was great. it happened after a long time, i don't know if that sounds weird. but i just went off to sleep. the right kind of sleep when i was so deep asleep nothing else mattered, and i was half-dead and pretty damn comfortable.
so, my point, i guess, is that i'll be fine... maybe not all the time, but i'll be okay. and that makes me happy. which is why okay is great.

Thursday, 20 June 2013


i don't know if i should be writing this post... i don't know if what i feel is even real, if it actually makes sense what i feel.
i feel trapped. and i don't mean like i can't go where i want to, or i want to travel. i'm just scared there's too much out there in the world i won't ever get to see. too much out there i won't get to experience. that scares me. i want to see so much. i want to do so much.
i want to travel, i want to learn different languages, i want to meet people, walk in barren lands, read long forgotten books, live in old houses, eat crazy types of food i'd never imagine eating, walk up to a random stranger and tell them i like the book they're reading, or the way they've put up their hair, anything.
i want to really discover the world. that scares me, really.
i want to know what life is... what living it's like.
and i'm not sure what scares me more, the fact that i can do that or the fact that i might never be able to.

i've wondered a lot of things for a long time... and one of them being, if someday, when i get married, my in-laws treat me bad, what's my dad going to do? is he going to care? is he going to let them treat me like shit? or is he going to take me back home with him? i don't know if i should be thinking about all this... but it means so much.

and i don't really know how to deal with so many feelings at the moment. i just don't. and the fact that i can't tell anybody who'll actually understand is frightening.

and i don't really know if there's anything left to say

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

On truth's path, wise is mad, insane is wise.
In love's way, self and other are the same.


Where have you been

I've been trying to bond with my sister recently. She's been cranky and impatient, and well, I figured she could use a friend.
So, tonight, while we were in bed, waiting for slumber to take over, I asked her to tell me a story. After hearing her story, I contributed to this bonding session by saying, 'Close your eyes. Imagine you're in the place that makes you happiest. The place you like best.'
I pictured myself in New York. Devouring lonely libraries, walking across busy streets and just feeling the beauty of being alone; of seeing people, but not having to be one of them.
After a while in our happy place, my sister asked me where I imagined myself, I told her where I'd been, she told me she saw herself in her own house. That's all she said, that she saw herself in a house of her own.
I thought that was the cutest thing ever. She wants a home, she wants a family. She wants to be around people she loves and she wants to show them how much she loves them.
How different we are, don't you think? One sister finding happiness away from people, and the other, with.
But I guess, that says a lot about me... And her.
Or maybe I just gave it too much thought. I am good at that.

Sunday, 16 June 2013

because i'm his sister

Basically, last night, I was in  a pathetic mood when my cousin added up to it by saying I really need to start being good to myself. That angered me more, and I asked him, 'Why do you even care?'
'Umm... because you're my sister, I care even if I don't want to.'

When I recalled this conversation from last night, I can't even begin to explain how happy it made me.
The fact that he's there, you know? The fact that he's my brother, he'll always be there to pick me up if I fall down. He can be the biggest of douche-bags at times, but if I'm writing a blog post about him, he definitely matters.
And I'm glad he does. And I'm glad I matter to him, because I'm his sister. 

Friday, 14 June 2013

thank you

when your little girl
asks you if she’s pretty
your heart will drop like a wineglass
on the hardwood floor
part of you will want to say
of course you are, don’t ever question it
and the other part
the part that is clawing at
will want to grab her by her shoulders
look straight into the wells of
her eyes until they echo back to you
and say
you do not have to be if you don’t want to
it is not your job
both with feel right
one will feel better
she will only understand the first
when she wants to cut her hair off
or wear her brother’s clothes
you will feel the words in your
mouth like marbles
you do not have to be pretty if you don’t want to
it is not your job
— it is not your job | Caitlyn Siehl

Thursday, 9 May 2013

It's the late hours of night that reek of darkness and livid emptiness of the night, where it's hard to heave my eyes open, the utter fatigue of the day having gripped me, the musical symphony has synced in with my eyes, and they, too, sway to and fro; I realize what I've achieved is bliss.
What a blessing it is to be occupied, to have enough things to do to not care about what tomorrow holds. 

ILY, followers.  

Wednesday, 1 May 2013

lessons learnt

I had a friend last year, she's still my friend, but she joined school last year and left, too, last year. She was pretty quiet in her first few days at school, sitting alone in class until my friends and I asked her to join us at lunch. She wasn't shy, she knew what to say, when to say it. She listened to the teachers, but also had her share of fun in class, all up in her head. Lost deep in her thoughts.
I knew for a fact that she was depressed. I'd talked to her enough, I was closest, at the time, to her out of all our friends. Closest in the sense that she would open up to me. And, anyway, I know a lot about depression and what it does to people, I can recognize a depressed person when I see one.
I have this part of me that's just sat waiting for somebody to approach her, somebody to ask for help, somebody to ask for her to be a friend. I want to be somebody that listens and cares, and a true friend even if others aren't the same to me. I figure everybody needs a friend at some point, and I want to be that friend. 
So, because of this part of me who was thrilled to see somebody so different, somebody so real, I listened to her vigilantly; making all her problems mine. 
And without knowing it, she became a part of me. I loved her so much. I wanted to everything about her.
And then, one day, she left. She moved back to where she came from and we still talk and stuff, but the things she told me, the way she talked, the way she cried, the way she sang, and wanted just to spread peace in the world - they all stuck. They made me a different person.
Sometimes, people come along who your soul just clings onto. You don't know why, and you don't know how it happens, but they become an essential part of our lives. You have a connection with them that nobody understands, and that's what makes it perfect.
And these people, they teach you so much about life. 
People are beautiful in what they've been through and in the way they choose to express it. 
I'll never forget her. She made me more sure of who I am than anybody ever has, and I love her so much for that.

Saturday, 6 April 2013

I haven't forgotten

Has it ever happened to you that nothing too eventful has happened in a while, but you still feel like a lot has, a lot has changed? 
I've accepted change as an essential part of life. I have no choice, obviously, but to do so. But so much still keeps changing. 
Not in what a particular situation is like, but my standpoint.
And the change of a standpoint is something much like a whirlwind, it does not hurt, but it isn't exactly pain-free. When things constantly keep changing, it's hard to keep up, it's hard to keep standing. 
But it's harder to smile. And that's what I've been trying to do.
Fall down. Fall down everyday, if that's the way it has to be, but don't stop smiling. Don't be afraid of what's to come tomorrow, because no amount of fear will do anything about what the future holds.
Life is about mistakes, life is about falling down, and falling down too many times to count. Life's about tears and anger, but most importantly: hope, self-respect, and love.
So keep moving on. Forget about the people who forget you, don't cry over those who don't spare a thought about you, don't lose yourself. 
Stand strong, stand whole, and stand facing the world, headstrong. 

Let the sky fall.

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

save me.

i'm scared. i don't know how i feel. i mean, i feel terrible, but i've totally zoned out on normality tonight. i feel numb. 
terrible and numb? does that make sense?
i'm just sick of all the shit going on in my life. nothing makes me want to go on, or to think it won't be that bad.
the only reason i haven't completely broken down is because i've done it too much and these damn anti-depressants need to work, which i guess they're doing their bit.
i'm done feeling the way i do. but i'm stuck. and it's scary where i am.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Don't let go now

It's hard letting go, isn't it? 
I of all people would know that. 

But what if it's letting go of that bit of remainder that still makes you normal? What if it's letting go all the pain and hurt of all past days? 
I would never cut. I would never commit suicide.
I would runaway.

I don't see the point in holding on anymore. 
I'm not running away, though. I'm fine. I smile, joke, laugh with everybody else, but I don't feel like one of them. I hate not feeling like them because they're so closely involved and... why am I left out? 

But when I start acting like them, I hate myself for it, I feel like I'm becoming a clone when that happens. 

The point is, I'm fine. I'm not doing anything normal people don't do, I'm not not doing anything normal people do do. 
I'm just weird. I just feel incomplete.
Sorry for getting y'all depressed with this post. 


Thursday, 14 March 2013

do i really need them

One of the worst things about depression is wanting people to care when you can't make them. You can sit all day, all night, and all the days and nights that follow and wait for somebody to come along and tell you that they care, but you cannot make somebody care. That's just how life is.

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Taken all over me

You know what happened yesterday? I'll tell you what.

  1. I came home at 2.30
  2. Took a shower
  3. Had lunch
  4. Left home at 4.30
  5. Went for tuition
  6. Left at 6.30
  7. Went to pick my dad up
  8. Waited at his office for half an hour
  9. Came back home at 8
  10. Made pamphlets for these stalls we're putting up at school
  11. Got screamed at by my parents because I'm an ungrateful brat
  12. Left to get them printed at 9
  13. Spent 20 minutes arguing about the format I wanted the thing to be printed in
  14. Waited 30 minutes in the market, hanging around in various shops until the dude was done printing the pamphlets.
  15. Came home at 10.15
  16. Freaked out about my life being a mess and thought about how effing tired I was
I'm not sure if I'm unhappy, or just overwhelmed. Unhappy... wow. This word is starting to define my existence.

I like routine. I like having things to do. What I don't like, however, is being driven crazy and wanting to die, because I've never wanted to die. Ever. And now I've lost it enough. Just enough.

Monday, 21 January 2013

Kill to feel that very air upon my skin.

There's a whole bunch of crap going on in my life right now, but I'm not going to post about it just yet because I don't feel like I'm on terms with it, yet.
But in every hard time that I have to face, there's only one thing that I can think of: Islamabad.
I know I'm being a cheesy old prick, but Islamabad is just where I want to be.
I want to have long walks in F9 Park. I want Mama's ice-cream from D. Watson. I want to go shopping at Jinnah Super, feel the sun peeking through the high, bushy trees, the fresh air that I'm not used to anymore, intoxicating me.
I want to drive to Daman-e-Koh and see the view of the whole city, belittled, though just as magnificent. 
I want to witness the inconsistent rain, the clouds, the windstorms, everything.
And I don't know when I will... 
I cannot deny the magnificence of Karachi, but it's just not my kind of place. My kind of place is Islamabad. The town of peace, the town of humble and friendly people. The town where absolutely everything can go wrong, but even when it is, it isn't. It's Islamabad, you see.
And maybe I'm exaggerating. I'm pretty sure most of what I'm saying doesn't make any sense to y'all.

I am from Karachi, but I will always consider myself Potohari (the area Islamabad resides in is called Potohar, it is not part of Punjab), consider myself a hardcore Islamabadi. 
And I always will be. As soon as I can find my way out, as soon as I'm responsible for myself, I am out of here.

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

I'd been expecting this.

When 2011 ended, I vigilantly and enthusiastically bid farewell to the year, claiming it was one of the worst years ever and that now that it was over, we'd be be able to be happy again.
I know that sounds stupid, but that's what I thought.
And now, having gone through another year of my life, which consisted of both light and dark, I realize that no year is responsible for what happens to you. And that every coming year will be as bad as the last. But it's our responsibility as secondary caretakers of our lives and souls, to realize that no matter how bad a time passes you, there's a reason behind it and soon enough, you'll find out what it is.
When my aunt died in 2010, and the two years before her death when we were all really just passing the time we had, and I didn't regret it and I didn't hate it and I wasn't depressed, and I wasn't even unhappy. But it was a difficult time. And now that that time's passed (Thank God), I really see that that time, though primarily made our lives tough, also made us happy in our daily life. You know what I mean?
We were so hung up on 'Oh, that chemotherapy,' or 'Oh, dinner at Phuppo's tonight,' that the time at school for me, or work for my dad, or even home for my mother, was good. It was relaxed, because we saw the bigger image; because all the hardships of daily lives didn't get to us, because for all we knew, we'd be losing a beloved family member the very next day.
And then that year went by, and then another, and now another has gone, and we're still here. Still standing, still together, still loving, caring, hurting, breathing.

So, for what it's worth, happy new year, and may the coming year make you a stronger person. And I say that with a lot of thought put into the statement. And I don't really think, so savor it.