Open Up

I am still thinking, what to write about and most importantly, HOW? The journey from NUML to Air University was indeed, a grilling one. Making acquaintances and befriend new people is something, I always suck at.

Running and jumping around the corridors of Iqbal Block (NUML) is something I will never be able to forget. That place made me feel the true essence of Literature and Friendship. Healing the broken ones and getting healed by them, in return. From critical writing to analyzing the complex literary passages, I did enthusiastically. And then, life happened, I graduated and left that place with irrevocable memories.

Life gave me the endless series of reality checks, some adult stuff to deal with, joblessness and a broken heart. Above all, anxiety and depression. But I made situations worse in my head, for myself. Thinking that life knocked me down brutally when in reality, I was weighing myself down. I had to go through situations, I could have never even imagined. I doubted myself and my abilities relentlessly. The worst part was that my parents had to deal with the embarrassment I caused them without even realizing. From breaking cutlery to shredding my paintings in pieces, I did all.  Indecisiveness was my only reason for behaving like a completely opposite version of myself. I wanted everything but I was too good to view a non-hazy picture of life.

Then a miracle happened, (chuckles), I had to go through a breakup, the turning point of my life. That transformed me thoroughly. I started owning myself for myself, started putting myself in awkward positions, above all, I laughed at myself and shed my doubts. After bursting the self-made bubble,  I started earning, though it was a meager amount but worth it. I stopped caring about looking feminine. ( Major reason for getting rejected, umpteenth times, still not trying :D).

Life went through massive twists and turns when I got myself admitted in MS English program at Air University. I had to make friends and put my trust in their plans that turned in tribulations. I got treated as a commodity until I had to prioritize myself again!

I was fortunate enough, I found soul sisters in form of friends. They never questioned my love for books and art like many discarded people. ( could not be more polite).

But, this time, the Rishta rants and me, running out of suitable bachelors, got me into real trouble. For the first time in my life, I trusted my mother with my secrets. this time their nature was different, it was not about getting new toys but the so-called Rishtas. She proved a great help and motivator, as always.

For an introvert like me, the University events and managerial stuff sounded like hell. But I did them, in fact, I did great in managing those events.

Soon, I will have to submit my final thesis and life will happen, as it does. But this time, I am prepared for life. The key is acceptance, not resilience! Life does get better but it makes you better, first! We have to hug the thorns, in order to get ourselves to the thrones. Life has got funny ways of transforming us into something, we can not even fantasize.

When Life happens, nothing else happens… ( had to end with this not so deep line).

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Intransitiveness

I am only good at “being me”

A few hours ago, I was busy teaching my students the types of verb. “Transitive” and “Intransitive” verbs. The major difference between them was, that the former type involved the doer of the action whereas the latter form dealt with states or feelings without any doer of the action. I was wondering that how could a grammatical rule explain life so vividly! Like once there were many actions being performed by the doers and then the action couldn’t be transferred to the object, our heart.

Whenever a pimple appears on my face, my aunts question me “why are you getting them again?” to which I reply defensively “oh they are better, they were much worse weeks ago” Does a pimple know, if it is appearing on a male skin or a female skin? Just like that pimple, I am devoid of the feeling of gender inside my soul until I reach my menstrual cycle every month to proclaim that I am a girl. Why being a girl is so tough for me? I am not a tomboy either. I am me, yes, just me! A free spirited bird, who wants to flatter the wings and fly, just fly without stopping.

They jest at me, saying “you’re a boy inside” I reply “because my father raised me like a son.” I am tired of hearing about the gender roles. I want to be fearless like a male but I know that a male fakes his cowardice by acting vigilant and a female, hides her valor with the veil of fragility. I don’t want to cake myself with makeup just because I am a female and I have to look presentable for the world. They measure my worth with the pressed crease of my clothes and the lipstick shade I wear. They resist talking to me in my messy clothes and face full of acne and breakouts. They don’t judge my intellect on the basis of huge piles of books that I’ve read or the records that I lip sync on. They dread me when they come to know that I am an introvert and I don’t go to outdoor places. They call me bore and psychopath because they consider my thoughts negative and lethal. They easily discard the goodness in me and let my mood swings outweigh the former. They hurt me, I won’t lie. The worst part is they make me dread myself the most. They take me out of my shell, get some amusement and throw me. And left me in the dungeon of my endless contemplations. They convert my life into Intransitive. They really do!