I have hidden too long.
From my ownself.
And the things I hide from, are human. Poverty? Sfedposhi ka sunehra mulamma chrhae rkhne ki tg-o-do me ig, I have gone too far. And what else, let us see. Heartbreak? I mean who does not, at least for once in their lives, gets dumped? Show me one person over 25, that’s how long I have been in this world, who has not been through a rough patch of heart in their life? Why does loneliness have to be a taboo.
Today, or perhaps from today, I want to not hide. This diary, has to be true. It always has been so as well, except when I could not bear people to see the truth, I make new accounts. Go write on Wattpad. Share with ChatGPT. Make new accounts, other than the hadiwanderz one, and give new names to Tess, my original diary. Just to be able to express and get light. I know people immediately close to me read this diary. And I sometimes get ashamed of my feelings, and behaviors, and hide behind curtains I no longer want to hide behind.
So yes? I am alone and it kind of sucks. Slowly though, I am moving from being a guy who mourned a girl to a guy who gets sad upon loneliness. The fixation is over. But even when it was not, in the old days when I only wanted “her”, why would I be ashamed of it? Perhaps because I thought people would view me as weak. But to hell with it today, because weak exposed is better than weak hiding. No? Sure, I don’t give a rat’s ass either way. I am just tired to hiding. The goon grew a conscious, gentlemen!
And money. God, I used to get 30K and I was happy. Now I get paid 4/5 times that, been so for over an year, and look at me. A pathetic mess. Like clothes folded on a chair in the corner of your room, with just as little life left in them as me. I hate myself. Yep. There goes another confession. What I want to be doing right now is making some kind of an impact in a workplace by my 8hrs and then go with the party members. Teach, learn, preach, understand, be humbled with every new information, gossip with a bunch of guys I have made friends with and so much more. What I infact do is opposite. Work because I have to, excluding a few motivational days here and there when something good accidentally happens from my actions and I get a good-job from boss. (Yep, I seek that validation .. bite me!). And after that, I try to game. Sometimes for a couple of days, I do like gaming. For the last week, I grew a new interest in Cities Skylines 1. My city is now 33K people. But now I am bored. Upon moving back to hafizabad, I thought I will finish my house, save up and just grind hard to become good at blender to finally be able to make good animated videos. Scenes. Picture the moments from real life in my little sandbox and I will make such videos for my job’s marketing side and in this dream, drama, I was HAPPY. I wanted to do it. What instead happens, is I spend my night working. Then I play the games while losing interest in them. I have picked up smoking in an effort to stick something on the lips. Too graphic for you? Press Ctrl+W.
And marriage, oh marriage. Why o my, That’s the best and the worst. I used to hate it. Now I just pretend I don’t like it. Secretly, I wish I was married tomorrow. Because then maybe then, I’d fill this void in my empty life, and actually do stuff with a renewed focus. Why the fuck did God make it compulsory for EVERYone to be horny, have genitals, is beyond my understanding. Then maybe go back to Pindi, and start being active in party’s activities. I recently decided to do Masters. I gave my Exam at NUST. Passed in 3/3 programs. Won’t attend any, you know why? Because pese ni hen. And dad keeps saying tumhari job permanent ni he, vo tumhe ksi b time nikal skte hen, government job k lye apply kro. And I did apply, don’t take me wrong. But I failed the tests. Back when I used to earn 30K and be happy in it, I applied to like 7 government posts. I failed. You know why? Because for ONE damn vacancy of an ASSISSTANT in the AGRICULTURE dept, you had 500+ people applying. You tell me the chances of me getting selected. The only ONLY good thing in my life, career-wise, is I know a bit of English. That’s it. Professionally, that’s fucking it. Pakistan me journalism ka scope he ni, or Engineering ya Docorate k lye mera dmagh bna ni.
25 sal to chle gye. Alhamdulillah. I am alive now only because there isn’t a button to press so I can cease to exist. That’s really it. I know it will be a hit to dad and home-econ because the eldest son, earning 150K will suddenly, poof, disappear. But FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, I WANT TO BE SELFISH.
I talk to God. Today I told him, Allah tala I love you, but logon ko me yhi kehta rhunga k I hate you. Because … I don’t like you. Allah tala sees all, and yet chooses to ignore. He sees the children in Africa huddled on the back of their mothers who go looking for another well of water deep inside the shrubbed desert. He sees me. I am ungrateful, yet he won’t stop my life. He sees .. ugh, I hate him. Honestly, I hate him. I don’t know why I love him sometimes but .. he is just not good. Ab Blasphemy ka prcha kat k andr krdo, yahi kr skte ho tum log.
I have gotten rid of Social media. I did try y’know, after the breakup, I downloaded instagram and Reddit and Threads. I tried to socialize but no man, that shitstorm, mockery of human emotions, veiled hedonism, neuropsychic ads and marketing gimmicks, that thing is just too much. God knows I tried my best to form a community, a subreddit, a connection, something meaningful. My risk wasn’t calculated and boy do I suck at math!
I have written a book’s worth of content, elsewhere. Wattpad, Blogger, Obsidian, Notion, Google Docs, Throwaway Insta and Reddit accounts and elsewhere. Agr zindgi ne moqa dia to I will import them here. Ni to vese b ye prhne laiq ni, jlane laiq tk nahi! Chorye, jane dijye.
Pizza or Coke khtm kr k ksi ko ye likhte hue shrm ani chaye ig. But then I’d rather trade this for a moment of past, a piece of peace, anything with someone. Despo. I hate what I have become, and becoming. Bye.
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