I have been in a bad habit of staying up till 5am, and then waking up around 12pm. Today was different, today I woke up a tad earlier (11am) and I went out with H. 23 days left, till I leave. I should be making the most of each day but I don't. Some days I just roam about the house, doing random things.
I'm in love with my niece, Z. I don't know if she has been mentioned before in this blog. I will check right now. Okay, she's been mentioned indirectly. When she was born, and this is the strangest thing to say, I felt like I've known her for years. She was a new face but I felt like she was always a part of our lives. Her face and her mannerisms are so familiar to me, and this feeling is beautiful.
Pressure and stress are sort of getting the best of me, since I have so many things to do, and the first thing I should do is write them all down. But alas, I cannot bring myself to do it. I am free till the evening tomorrow so I will sit down and write a list. First thing after breakfast.
Meeting with Faizi tomorrow. These farewells. Sigh.
I have been ripping up all of my journals. I have kept journals since 2006, and I have six of them. I am reading through every post, and ripping them up. It's dead weight that I can't take back to the States, and it's time I've moved on. I was 15 when I started writing those, and even though I would occasionally read back entries and think oh, I'm the same person...I read them now and think Who the hell was that? That angsty, miserable person? Not that I'm amazingly happy right now, but I get by with my days of contentment and accomplishments. I see my raging struggle with my self esteem. I see my indecision about becoming a doctor, and considering Psychology and BBA. I see my puppy love about my ex. I see H being occasionally mentioned in some posts, and as a friend at most. I see my anxiety about exams, and wanting to top and pass each one. All I see in them are negativity. I want to be able to leave Pakistan physcially as well as mentally and emotionally. And getting rid of these journals will do that. E suggested burning them in one go. That was too harsh for me. I have to go through them once more atleast.
I miss the red sandstone that AKU buildings were made of.
April 18, 2016
Constellations.
So many events and occasions happen, that by the time I get around to opening this up, I don't know where to start and where to end. So, I'm going to write as much as I remember, and then make a vow to jot down anything that's on my mind.
I moved to Karachi for the month of March to do an internship. Writing it down, compacting it into one sentence, does not do it justice. I was excited to execute the first formal adult decision of my post graduate life. I sound silly, I know. But the feeling I had was bigger than anything I can write down. I only wish I wrote about every single day I was there, because it sure was eventful. It did get boring sometimes as well; I remember sleeping in till 3-4pm on my days off, wake up to have food, only to sleep again. But then there were days where I was having my on call dinner with A at Xander's at 1 in the morning, eating at a dhaba and feeling safe, walking to the water on the beach and letting it wash over me. And the breeze, the Karachi breeze will never be forgotten. I also remember feeling like Karchi was everything I imagined it would be, and also some new feelings developed for it as well. In the first few days, Karachi didn't feel like a part of Pakistan at all. I can't describe it any other way. But after awhile, it did.
Back to Lahore. Back to familiarity, and security, and greenery, and a place I can call home. I felt like my soul sighed of relief when I landed back here. I can't describe it; Lahore is such an amazing city for me.
Growing up and moving here, I was devastated. I felt like the U.S was my identity, and Pakistan was my bus stop. I would be moving back to the States soon, and this horrible nightmare would be over. There were nights where I would forcefully dream about Times Square and the bright lights, and feel my heart swell and I would get so excited and think, Yes. I will go back soon and then I will be the happiest person ever. If me and my sister were going through a rough patch regarding studies, parents, or boys, America was our getaway in our head. We will be back inshAllah, we said, and then everything will be alright. This illusion carried on till I was atleast 21. Even when I was asked if I would be okay after ending things with H, I said "If I move back to the States, I'll definitely be okay."
The illusion is gone. America is no longer enticing. Maybe when I go back and experience it for myself, it will be different. But I can't say for sure.
More in the next post. This was just a brief background story and it's been sitting in the Drafts for too long.
I moved to Karachi for the month of March to do an internship. Writing it down, compacting it into one sentence, does not do it justice. I was excited to execute the first formal adult decision of my post graduate life. I sound silly, I know. But the feeling I had was bigger than anything I can write down. I only wish I wrote about every single day I was there, because it sure was eventful. It did get boring sometimes as well; I remember sleeping in till 3-4pm on my days off, wake up to have food, only to sleep again. But then there were days where I was having my on call dinner with A at Xander's at 1 in the morning, eating at a dhaba and feeling safe, walking to the water on the beach and letting it wash over me. And the breeze, the Karachi breeze will never be forgotten. I also remember feeling like Karchi was everything I imagined it would be, and also some new feelings developed for it as well. In the first few days, Karachi didn't feel like a part of Pakistan at all. I can't describe it any other way. But after awhile, it did.
Back to Lahore. Back to familiarity, and security, and greenery, and a place I can call home. I felt like my soul sighed of relief when I landed back here. I can't describe it; Lahore is such an amazing city for me.
Growing up and moving here, I was devastated. I felt like the U.S was my identity, and Pakistan was my bus stop. I would be moving back to the States soon, and this horrible nightmare would be over. There were nights where I would forcefully dream about Times Square and the bright lights, and feel my heart swell and I would get so excited and think, Yes. I will go back soon and then I will be the happiest person ever. If me and my sister were going through a rough patch regarding studies, parents, or boys, America was our getaway in our head. We will be back inshAllah, we said, and then everything will be alright. This illusion carried on till I was atleast 21. Even when I was asked if I would be okay after ending things with H, I said "If I move back to the States, I'll definitely be okay."
The illusion is gone. America is no longer enticing. Maybe when I go back and experience it for myself, it will be different. But I can't say for sure.
More in the next post. This was just a brief background story and it's been sitting in the Drafts for too long.
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