When all the wars be over, i will be with you, you will be passing all the things, you might not even die alone. I get it that you feel out of the place most of the time, things call you and you turn back but what good will it do? Has it ever done any good? Me, you are a person of lies and multiple disorders, i hate it that you hate yourself so much. That everytime you feel like happy, something stings, it stings very badly, very harshly, and you scream, but in the calm zone, where no one sees you. I hate it how most of the time you question yourself because of being absent minded. You are, hanaa? You are absent minded. Do you even live in the place, where you should be? Does anything matter to you much? Why do you have to feel in a manner that you have to be alone?
Are you sure that you don’t push people around? Are you sure that when someone tries to come near you, you feel clingy? Me, you always end up loving the things in which you once felt that you will never be interested in, whether it is Chandigarh, Shimla, a person or someone else. I hate it, Me, how you feel much obliged to even a slight comfort you feel around the people because that’s what you never felt! I hate it, how you tell everyone to keep on pushing but just pushing out turn out to be exhausting for you. I hate it, how you keep on killing the characters in your stories and you feel like they won’t be able to get a happy ending, i know you feel sorry for Hamida, for Mr. Singh, for Roni but what is there in the world to hold on. I hate it that you still chose to stay silent when the darkness whispers in your ears and you feel unaccountable to anyone. I hate it that even though you are seeking therapy, you don’t feel a much change. The anxiety is your 24 hours companion and all you feel is restlessness, even in the smiles that you display in the photographs everythings is a facade. I hate it, how solace is everything you seek and you can’t push away the people becuase just the fact is you can’t.
I get it Me, but it’s been a year since you write your first letter but what good it will be to yield out of the grieving and mourning, why to mourn over the spoilt milk, because it never mattered. You will get out of it, i know you will be, even though you have been a hostage of past, you have stagnated yourself enough, but against all the odds, you still believe in Faiz.
दिल ना उम्मीद तो नहीं, नाकाम ही तो है,
लम्बी है अगर गम की शाम, मगर शाम ही तो है!
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