Pretty&Broken-8

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The noises grow louder and even the ticking of the clock gets on my nerves. I’ve been lying all day in bed thinking about life in general and about myself. It is one of those days where the path I have chalked out for myself doesn’t make much sense and I end up thinking whether I should change my course and run towards another direction?

It’s a case of running away-which I’ve done all my life-the faster I could the better it was because avoiding it only fueled me and countering it I knew my destruction was not far. Who on earth would like to be destroyed? I always thought that the faster you could get away from life, from people, from your problems and from yourself helped in surviving.

I often used to wonder if a bullet to the head was all I needed to end this chase. I still do and think it might be quiet feasible. It gets better but lately nothing is getting better. Hope for the hopeless is like trying to revive the dead with CPR, if you ask me simply that it does not work. I can sugar coat the life around people but I cannot sugar coat my life mainly, because I know the bitter core. I wouldn’t want to deceive myself.

It happened so suddenly that the world seemed suffocating and tiring. I wasn’t prepared for it and like all things that strike me out of nowhere so did this. It became suffocating and unbearable. I occupy very little space I can and even so, have reduced myself to a four walled chamber where only my thoughts engulf my existence. I cannot seem to get out of this and the more I try to be free, the more this world seems like a cage.
I really hope I get better. I really hope this too passes me by but for some reason, the optimist in me is dead. Whatever it is can hit me dead and I would be happier than ever, if I do not survive this depressive spell.

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About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m Sheher Bano Zafar and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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