Isle of Skye

WHAT IT’S LIKE Depression is not like anything. Words are symbols we use to communicate things, but their meaning is only distantly related to reality. Nothing is like anything. Everything is. Depression is knowing that. It is sitting at the kitchen table at two in the morning, unable to sleep for the fifth night in a row and wondering how you can get out from under life without hurting the people you love. Depression is knowing for a fact they’re delusional in loving you, being unable to deny that they do, and hating yourself for fooling them. Depression is feeling so bad about yourself you wish you didn’t exist, and being convinced that your existence is a terrible cosmic mistake. It is hitting that wall, knowing there’s nothing you can do short of killing yourself. Depression is walking the neighborhood in the night, relieved there are no streetlights because if someone sees you and asks what’s wrong, you won’t be able to understand them. It’s forgetting how to speak, when all you c...

Dipsomania: a compulsive desire to drink alcoholic beverages. A synonym for alcoholism, I suppose. I don't want to take any more of those happy pills. I just want to rot. You look at the bloody grad photo and you realise what a fucking waste of time it has been. Because it didn't teach you self-confidence and it didn't give you social skills. It didn't teach you how to analyse or be critical. It didn't teach you how to live. You would have given up after your third year. You really would have. In fact the breakdown process began two Aprils ago. Before Cuba. The sun has just made an appearance, as slight as it is. I should go down to the pond to give the ducks the stale bread. But I can't. My legs betray me. My soul betrays me. I can't go out without showering, now can I? Or rather. Just face it. You don't want to go out. You don't want to get better. There's nowt to look forward to because you don't belong here. Briony was right. One is eithe...

There was really no reason for it. Well, except for the fact that I had slept three hours in the early evening. So I tried sleeping at 11, did not work. Woke up, tried to read, couldn't for very long. Back to bed, back to reading. Heard a car drive by at 12:15 am (God knows what kind of job that person has). Then it hit me to sit on the window ledge as I used to all those years ago. It just hit me that I used to be so excited just being in London, breathing in the crisp or balmy air (depending on the season). Imagining what I would be doing the next day. Of course, never did nothing but I suppose that is my greatest fault. According to the ColorQuiz it is and I am fed up of it, the bloody know-it-all. Tells me that I am unrealistic in my aims and goals and I fear failure (or maybe that's my enneagram) and that I think others having a better time of it than I am. I fear success as well. Ha ha. Well, you're right. So now what? You've delved into my psyche, you know that ...

Aphorism: a short, clever saying expressing a general truth. I was reading Kartography. I think if I emotionally distance myself from it, I'll be able to read it through. After all, I don't really consider me a Pakistani, now do I? And I am quite obviously not from the upper-class. Those kids were definitely studying in Grammar School. I have just woken up and I immediately started thinking about Kampala. I can safely say that that was the best time of my life. The time I was genuinely happy. And it's thanks to the city itself, to my granddad, to the weather. To my school. To the culture there. There was no fucking drama there. There was just school and French and thinking that Sophie's cousin Toby was actually the fella from Neighbours - Christ. I had a crush on Alex - he was from Australia. Can't remember his accent, though. I wonder how was it that Colin was at our school, because he was Ugandan himself. His dad must have been an autocrat. But, as far as I can t...

Shame on us Ronan Bennett Monday November 19, 2007 The Guardian http://www.guardian.co.uk/race/story/0,,2213223,00.html What do you make of the following statement: "Asians are gaining on us demographically at a huge rate. A quarter of humanity now and by 2025 they'll be a third. Italy's down to 1.1 child per woman. We're just going to be outnumbered." While we're at it, what do you think of this, incidentally from the same speaker: "The Black community will have to suffer until it gets its house in order." Or this, the same speaker again: "I just don't hear from moderate Judaism, do you?" And (yes, same speaker): "Strip-searching Irish people. Discriminatory stuff, until it hurts the whole Irish community and they start getting tough with their children." The rest of the article is in the link.

I was thinking about Sam in the morning. He went into film-making. His parents let him do whatever he wanted to do. And he's damn happy about it. His sister told me that he wanted to make cowboy films. Whatever. Right now, he's working for a Toronto-based production company. And living his dream. When I censured him last year, of course it was just the mores of society and whatever. I think I was envious, subconsciously. It is, after all, a glamorous-sounding profession. I think the best thing is that each of the kids are free to do whatever they really want. Kay will work for Amnesty, HRW or the UN. She's going to be done with her MA next June. Four hours younger than I am. Oh, this was supposed to be a positive entry. I am glad that some people are going to realise their ambitions; that they don't really care what their families think of them. Or rather, their families are intelligent enough not to keep them in a stranglehold of their own ideals and dreams. I mean, Fa...

I talked to Sarah online about what M did and first of all, I am shocked that she took it into her stride. I mean, exactly how many times has a bloke signed off with writing ' lurrve' to her? I keep spelling it like that because that is what he wrote and what he meant. It's different from love - even I know that. Well, anyway, she told me to ignore it and pretend that it didn't affect me at all. So I told her that I want it out in the open and to tell him that 'you shouldn't say something you don't mean because people will take it the wrong way - like I did'. So, she tells me that she knew I'd say something like that. Again, I was gobsmacked. Does she know me that well? I certainly don't know her that well that I would never be able to predict what she would or wouldn't do. I mean, to me, each of her actions is new and surprising. That just goes to show how utterly self-absorbed I am. I HATE THAT. Why can't I break out of my self-impose...

I've been feeling slightly up the past two days. Not sure if it's because of that ruddy email. I think it is. I've obsessed enough about it. It makes me laugh each time I read it. If only I had someone who actually lurrved me ha ha. I don't like it when people write things they don't mean, though. Playing word games with an emotional fuckwit . You have to be really careful about that. He just doesn't think, though. We all lapse once in a while, so I should just let it slide. Now, can you please stop obsessing already? I mean, I'm not one of those floozy-type girls who give as good as they get back. He's just in the habit of banter. I'd never say it unless I mean it. Kind of disappointing, though. I hate people who say things to make you feel nice, when they are just not true ... Christ... I was thinking yesterday about how there was a time, probably in A Levels, when I desperately wanted to become a school counsellor and deal with kids on a one-to...

...when God decided I wouldn't have siblings. Of course, I'm blessed with a loving family, but that's for another journal entry. In the span of a week, my friends, all of whom I thought had just abandoned me because they just weren't bothered with me. Or, of course, that I was worthless and so it was easily to forget/replace me. In a span of a week (I'm sounding ridiculously incoherent but that's because I'm sleep-deprived, freezing cold and feel half-stoned as a result). First was Ayesh. God bless the little darling. Then was M. You won't believe what he wrote in his email today. Thank God I was in a flippant mood, otherwise I might have just fallen in love with him after reading it *roll eyes* Then Sherry. Then Sarah. Then Zee. Aaaah I am freezing my bollocks off so will write later. God bless 'em ALL!

I'll start with the latest dream I had this morning. I had decided to imagine where I'd be and what I'd do if I was travelling. I end up dreaming about being in Lahore, in a halter-top and mini skirt with my group from Iran - girls and boys. I had another dream two weeks ago, whereby I was on a group trip similar to the Iran trip. Except we were somehow at Jinnah's tomb and in chadors. And, of all people, I dream of Sheikh being there. Utter retarded stuff. I mean, at least dream of Zuby or Faiz or someone I actually knew or liked. Retarded dreams: I am not getting any insights from them. It's just the pathetic past coming in my consciousness and I have no idea why. Well, at least I'll be getting my DVDs very soon. I thought I'd think about times when I was truly, genuinely happy and not depressed. Excited about something. Without fucking SSRIs messing up my system. Well, if not that, then the circumstances whereby I felt some genuine emotion. First was my c...

Now I feel bad for writing that caustic email. Oh well. You were angry when you wrote it, even though you took an hour to write it. Hope he writes back. I'm such a loser. Right, now I am extremely disappointed with myself. My life is a shambles and all I do is make it worse. Sitting here, reading stuff and having no exercise. Losing my life and my opportunities. Have no clue what to do. It's always the same, though isn't it. I have a quest, only they forgot to give me a map. And I haven't the intuition or imagination to figure it out by myself. The lyrics of a Simon & Garfunkel song are so nice. I haven't heard the song yet. I Am A Rock A winter's day In a deep and dark December; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island. I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It's laughter and it...

The book was a rip-off in the last chapter. Timothy kisses Jamila . Fuck. But then again, they are Aussies, she isn't a practicing Muslim and she was at her formal. What a twat. The book, I mean. Oh well, at least I spent an enjoyable day not thinking about what a loser I am. Trying to finish off The Sword in the Stone, now. It's just somewhat crazy and imbecillus , insanus , vesanus (Latin words for the same), gwallgo ( Gallois )....tee hee ...it's a shame I won't be able to access the York libraries database after the 28 th of this month. And of course, I've been depressed since may so it's not like I've been using it as I should. I really hope that I can get into another university doing a course that I love, enjoy and have a future to go to with. If I were to have the future I envision for myself, I wonder what it would actually be. I mean, okay, so I want to help people and sympathise with them. There's Oxfam , Amnesty, all the charities. Or chi...

...of a title for this entry right now. Not as though I did much. Except read 'Ten Things I hate About Me', a teen fiction book that was actually really engrossing. I actually felt as though I was Jamie, for some weird reason, as though it was my father stopping me from making guy friends. Completely stupid, but I suppose I am in a nonentity phase so I can just slip into another character's life. My father, God knows why, rang the lady at the primary care trust and ranted about being a taxpayer for 35 years etc and an hour later I received a phone call from the counsellor saying that she had an 'open space' on the 4th of December at 12 in Wimbledon. I don't know whether to be angry at my father or what. I didn't want him to rant and rave. I didn't even know he rang. But then it's become so bad that I misplaced my repeat prescription leaflet but I finally found it today, which means I am going to be out of meds for three days. I know that it will me...

I'm listening to all those old boy band songs from the 90s. Some of their dance moves are hilarious. The lyrics are fucking classic... 'Can we taaalk for a minute/ Girl I want to know your name' (Code Red). It's always these stupid romance songs that all girls love and we train ourselves into this rot. Apparently, life is tough. S is taking a course in Melbourne that isn't even the one she wanted. But then again, she isn't me and I am not her. I wanted to go to visit her over there. Unfortunately, the ticket costs £600. I'm such a fucking romantic. The most impractical person I know. I think that's why Diana actually got married to Charles, because she wanted to become a princess and thought that it would be a 'fairytale'. Why else would she marry someone 13-15 years her senior, with a mistress? Or whatever.... Now listening to 'Tearin' Up My Heart' by *NSYNC. Reminds me of A, every time. That was some crush I had on him. I think I l...

OK, so, apparently he was depressed and apologised. His uncle's wife died as well. So, I had to email right back in order to send my condolences. I am a bitch, but I wasn't feeling like such a bitch this morning. I had better shut up my mouth (or typing hands) completely. I have already sent one frigging desperate email. But I am not the same as I was two months ago. I am readying myself to die. I love Richard Armitage and Darren Hayes. I hate myself. My life has finished at 23. There was one interesting fella on Shiamatch. 25, Toronto, Persian. VGSOH. Articulate. Shame, sometimes, that I am never getting married. I think I need more Monty Python. Because M asked me what I was 'doing' these days. And there's nothing I can write in reply. He won't know what I am going through, if my own birth mother can't. If I can't. Please (this is my sensible self talking to my ignorant, naive and romantic self) don't email him more than twice a month. Don't te...

F gave me a few books yesterday. Two of them look rubbish, very teenager-like, so I don't think I shall read them unless I really am that bored. She gave me Kite Runner and Kartography. I am really amazed at my naiveté after reading a few chapters of the latter. That there are such authors who have such imaginations based in reality about the Pakistani upper-classes. I mean, Kamila Shamsie gives such ideas and words to 13 year-old kids and, though I am quite sure that there are quite a few precocious kids out there, it just seems to unrealistic. But then, how would I know? When I was 13, I had already blah blahed with two blah blahs without realising why I was doing it. I had perhaps already blah blahed with blah blah as well. I can't believe how sinister human nature is. Anyway, so I'm trying to identify with Karachiites and their worldview and they talk about crabbing and the beach and strikes and farms and daal chawal and what-not. And I just go to my MSN account becaus...

So today is my second day on the website Shiamatch.com and after searching my own "categories", I've found a guy who actually sounds really decent. Unfortunately , he is looking for a polite, respectful girl who is not a feminist. SHAME....if only I were another person. Well, too late for that. Maybe I can think of someone for him. He's 27. I should look for S. My point is I really am just not a wife material. I'd probably make an okay husband. Can I afford to have a sex change in Iran? God knows. Shite. Can't believe that, if I don't have guts to kill myself or if I don't die according to God's will soon, I shall have to lead a long life of loneliness, without anyone to love and to be loved by because I don't love myself, my Lord and my parents. Damn. Went to Wimbledon with F and had a good time (better than moping at home and looking for the paracetamol). She started to get impatient when I was looking for DVDs . Which pissed me off. I...

I woke up today, immensely grateful to my Lord that He gave me a sleep whereby I can't remember any dreams and I actually rested. I have been slightly obsessing over why M just stopped all contact with me and then I realised that I have forgotten to reply to some certain people in my life. So I did that first and then I am writing this. This is a great mystery as to why all of a sudden he stopped. I re-read a few of his FB messages and he was really nice and spent time to say a few words, even if it was to say that he was busy. I hope he didn't think that I was stalking him or falling in love with him. Ha ha. I am also becoming obsessed with the actor celebrities I am watching on "TV" these days. Like I have been thinking that Richard Armitage probably lives in the Morden/Wimbledon area and I just don't know which street *roll eyes please* and also wondering why I haven't seen any celebrities since I have come to live in London - granted, I spend all my days a...

It was yet another gorgeous day today. Sunny like anything. But I was "recuperating" from yesterday's hysteria. Got my period today. Atleast, well, at least I am not cursed like that. He really is the Most Generous and Stable. Not Vengeful when He knows we are stupid and wasting our own pitiful lives. Green Wing is ACE! Only, I wish they had developed Mac and Caroline's relationship a little more. Because it so fast-paced...I don't even remember when they didn't get along with one another. But then again, it's a sitcom, not something priceless like North and South. If only I could create something like that. All I do is write diary entries and swear. I have been swearing like anything these days. I think my PMS/PMT has worsened as a result of this stupid citalopram I am now forced to take for lack of an alternative. Can't be bothered to write anything else. Am a waste of space and a lazy blimp. Just wanted to add...Mac is kind. He really got angry when...

I threw another fit today. I yelled and screamed. I called my mother to tell her I wanted to go to Karachi. Then I told her to take out one of those istekharas. It came bad; that I'd become even worse than I am right now (can't even imagine it). So until February, I can't even let slip that I want to leave - because I can't. I am making the exact same mistakes as my predecessors. And I shall suffer their fates. But don't You realise that I really didn't want to become this Uru-khai? I don't want to become the Monster. I don't; and yet this is exactly how I have become. She probably started at the same age. But I just do not want to be her. I don't. That is all I can bear to write today.

The only good thing about my trip are the both Fs...they have both tried in their own ways to make me feel good about myself. I am so glad for them. Hopefully, I shall see one of them this Saturday.... the whole day was spent in resentment and stubbornness and reading. I read more of Wuthering Heights till it became too melodramatic for my sensibilities, so I switched to The Sword in the Stone, which is funny and it has an owl called Archimedes who talks. I shouldn't have teased her; I have done ten times worse than she. It's a good thing these antidepressants makes it unappealing now. I loved bands like Keane and Travis. Deep people. That's all I feel like writing about today. Mundane trash, isn't it though? Can't even think up a title. Just write the day. Oh, did I mention I deleted my Facebook page? I feel liberated. It's not even like anyone will miss me and those who know me well have my email address. I don't really think I want be all that good. Stupi...

Well, it is very clear that S thinks that I have become psychotic. Screw her. She's only been trained in organizational psychology, anyway. She is a fucking academic who has no idea whatsoever. Fuck them all. I thought she would at least ---but that's the whole fucking problem. There is no one. There are bloody NHS psychs who put you on a bloody wait list and don't ever tell you WHEN. There is God who KNEW all this was going to happen and still allows it to continue because natural laws cannot be superseded for anyone except His chosen ones. Not even for Moses. Fuck her - self-diagnose, she says. Fuck. After all that training, it is clear that humans know jack about anything. It's all superficial and of no value whatsoever. I really do hope I can get up enough guts to kill myself. I am beginning to admire the men who hang themselves, shoot themselves, drown themselves, smoke themselves. These methods need time and guts and they have it when they are successful. Fuc...