Stupid freaks I have for parents. It's been absolutely aeons since they were married to one another and yet they hold such deep rooted grudges against each other. And it's mostly to do with fucking money.
My mother. Argh. 'Oh, aren't you a smart girl, giving all your money to your father.'
I said, 'It's a loan, he wanted to pay off the mortgage and will pay me back.'
She said, 'Well, you're giving him all your money when I am here without any money.'
'Okay, as soon as I get my money, I'll give it all to you and never look at it again.'
'No, I have given the money to you and you very nicely give it to your father.'
Fuck off. It's the same old shit, recycled and rehashed and served on a new platter. And my father is just as bad.
'I don't know why your mother from her rich background married me, a poor man.'
'She's not rich anymore.'
'Oh yes, your family is rich and you have the rich people's culture; you and I are of different cultures.'
SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU FREAKS GET MARRIED, AND WHAT'S FRICKING WORSE, DECIDE TO BRING ME INTO THIS WORLD IF ONLY TO FUCKING TORTURE ME ALL MY LIFE?
And it's always about money. All the fucking time. Money, money, money. I can even recall I have written a very similar entry about this exact topic before, years ago.
Going back to Karachi is most certainly a deathtrap. I know it now. I keep getting these dreams. And my mother is as fucking narrow-minded as when I left her four and a half years ago. They are going to once again try to break my spirit and deaden my soul and cause me to rebel as a desperate act to break free.
Oh my Lord. PLEASE help me. I only have You.
Fucking bastards and their fucking money vendetta. It's always the Alibhai family versus I M Juma. My dad's sister didn't even want to speak to me last weekend. I said, 'Salaam alaikum Faima. How are you?' And she? 'Where is Papa?'
Looks like my Dad's curse is actually panning out: you will have no one if you continue acting this way.
They are so blind. They just can't see who I am. They blame my going to Canada and studying at uni for 'turning into this'. Why do I have to keep having to fight this ridiculous, superfluous battle that has no resolution in the end? Fighting for the sake of what... fighting? I'm a bloody pacifist.
I feel like ripping my heart out, blood and muscle and tubes, and throwing it against the wall so that it would stop aching so much.What on Earth am I doing? What am I going to do?
A wordless scream emits from my lungs, but there's no use. No one can hear me. Tears stream down my cheeks, but of what value are they if no one can see them or wipe them away?
My mother. Argh. 'Oh, aren't you a smart girl, giving all your money to your father.'
I said, 'It's a loan, he wanted to pay off the mortgage and will pay me back.'
She said, 'Well, you're giving him all your money when I am here without any money.'
'Okay, as soon as I get my money, I'll give it all to you and never look at it again.'
'No, I have given the money to you and you very nicely give it to your father.'
Fuck off. It's the same old shit, recycled and rehashed and served on a new platter. And my father is just as bad.
'I don't know why your mother from her rich background married me, a poor man.'
'She's not rich anymore.'
'Oh yes, your family is rich and you have the rich people's culture; you and I are of different cultures.'
SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU FREAKS GET MARRIED, AND WHAT'S FRICKING WORSE, DECIDE TO BRING ME INTO THIS WORLD IF ONLY TO FUCKING TORTURE ME ALL MY LIFE?
And it's always about money. All the fucking time. Money, money, money. I can even recall I have written a very similar entry about this exact topic before, years ago.
Going back to Karachi is most certainly a deathtrap. I know it now. I keep getting these dreams. And my mother is as fucking narrow-minded as when I left her four and a half years ago. They are going to once again try to break my spirit and deaden my soul and cause me to rebel as a desperate act to break free.
Oh my Lord. PLEASE help me. I only have You.
Fucking bastards and their fucking money vendetta. It's always the Alibhai family versus I M Juma. My dad's sister didn't even want to speak to me last weekend. I said, 'Salaam alaikum Faima. How are you?' And she? 'Where is Papa?'
Looks like my Dad's curse is actually panning out: you will have no one if you continue acting this way.
They are so blind. They just can't see who I am. They blame my going to Canada and studying at uni for 'turning into this'. Why do I have to keep having to fight this ridiculous, superfluous battle that has no resolution in the end? Fighting for the sake of what... fighting? I'm a bloody pacifist.
I feel like ripping my heart out, blood and muscle and tubes, and throwing it against the wall so that it would stop aching so much.What on Earth am I doing? What am I going to do?
A wordless scream emits from my lungs, but there's no use. No one can hear me. Tears stream down my cheeks, but of what value are they if no one can see them or wipe them away?
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