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Ecstasy

The last time I had this type of a rush was at the zoo early this year. My heart just fluttered so fast when I found the first book. As though I had had a hit of chocolate liquor

Book fair. Biggest in Karachi. I spent around Rs 2,000 on some otherwise elusive books. Although, in spite of my rigid checking, the last book I bought was slightly damaged. Snap. The funny thing is that I didn't even get round to going to Liberty Books and Sagar Books. It was 1 pm by then and there was a mad rush. But then, there's no point in buying so many books if I'm just going to haul them all the way back to London.

Yes. There we go again. I can't help it. I'd just love to pack up and go back to London and have a happy, ordinary, stress-free life. Will that happen? Hell, no.

My dad is there to ask "Is this friend worth it?" whether it's to do with buying them something or letting them stay at my house. "Do the washing up" "do the cooking" "do the housework" "do the shopping" "pull your weight" "get a job". "Is it value for money?" "Sign up at the JobCentre" (I hate that part of living in the UK - signing up for benefits) "What will you do with it (any sort of study he finds frivolous)?" "What is this counselling malarkey?"

Thing is: I cannot justify becoming a counsellor when I am never going to be willing to resolve my conflicts with anyone in my family. I don't want to resolve things with the two aunts. Neither do I want to do it with my dad. And my mum doesn't want to, so I could be least bothered. How effective am I going to be when I have no sorts of family values at all. I sneer at my friends who all put their families before friends, because I just don't get it.

You know what I've been thinking? My problems began in Canada, then exacerbated in London and haven't exactly been under control here. I've had serious personality conflict with my older aunt, her husband, my father and my younger aunt. The only person I truly love is my mum and I just yelled at her so badly today because she easily betrayed my secret to her sister.

So if I seem to have this impossible social interaction, if I am the one who cannot tolerate or cooperate or compromise with anyone I am related to, if I am the one who's needing to see a bloody neurobehavioural scientist (yeah, try looking that up on Google - I couldn't find a thing to illustrate what that is), it has to be me who is the problem. It's simple.

So wtf next? I still dream about running away to London. F. Why?

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