hi again. this is my attempt at self expression (no, it’s a rant to myself) , because i haven’t been doing a lot of that lately. i hope this blog can serve that purpose (hello yes it’s 2017 and i still have no phone or snapchat or whatever the cool kids are on these days)
so yeah! i’ll give this a go.
i’m angry because i really, really, wanna go to an art museam, and look at Rembrandt. i wanna paint something amazing or have a really cool art teacher, or play medleys on the violin with other people who love music. i wanna write and go to writing groups and get published in a newspaper where people can see my name and go to therapy so i can let my rage out and start healing and i wanna go to the library and research on obscure topics for projects and take a subway to nowhere. i wanna go out for a run at 5am till i can feel my heartbeat in my ears and the city under my feet and i wanna be able to cry really loud instead of the way i do right now where the tears just fall and i focus on being expressionless and on my breathing. i wanna meet up with my friends and laugh at dumb jokes and dye my hair blue and sneak out with my girlfriend and really actually start living so i have crazy stories to tell when i’m an aunt.
it’s like i’m stuck in this parallel world where i’m watching a movie except the movie is my life and i’m watching everyone live (on the internet////the people i text///my sister//my cousins//everyone) and i’m the silent witness, the onlooker, the passerby stuck doing nothing.
i can’t. there are no art museums in islamabad. i don’t have an art teacher, and violin classes are too expensive to take. maybe i could get published but i wish i knew local magazines where i could start and there’s literally no writing groups. mom would never take me to therapy. the kuch khaas library charges like 50 dollars a month lmao no, and i can’t step outside of the house without my family and running alone at 5am i’ll probably get raped. i’m suffocating suffocating suffocating and i wish i wasn’t
but i’m healing . i love the violin, and i love my hair and i’m ok with the fact that i have small boobs and i’m going to summer camp and directing a play there in the morning and i go to debates class and friendlies and i met up with my friends on my birthday and things aren’t so bad. i have an amazing best friend, and chocolates in the fridge, and a baby sister so cute random strangers take pictures of her.
things are okay.