[Shab bakheir,
but before that,]

"I know Alora, I resigned due to a very stupid reason and I really need the job back." I bite my nail and put the phone as close to my ear as possible.

I just watched Azaan on the repeat telecast of the award ceremony and cleared my mind. If he can lead a simple life after quite a few calm murders then I, someone who hasn't even killed an ant can definitely do it as well.

"You know how impossible Mr. Sanchez is. I'd advise you to get another job. It's much better to work at minimum wage than to work under him. You weren't promoted even once so you'd lose nothing."

The silence from my side lets her know I'm not ready to take her advise.

I feel guilty here, Azaan was right about the comfort thing. I have a dangerous comfort zone and this job is a part of it, I can't think of taking a different route to work and a different work environment no matter how big of a hell this one is.

I can see her rolling her eyes, "Call him, I don't care."

"I know, but what do I say?"

"Tell him you need the job again, what else can you really say? Just don't let him know you aren't looking for any other option. Tell him you went and gave more interviews but are still interested in this job."

I need a dialogue. I need a script. I can't do this.

"Hm, okay then I'll update you in a while."

I cut the call and without thinking much, click call on Mr. Sanchez's number.

Without waiting for a hello from his side, after the last ring I blurt it all out.

"Hello Mr. Sanchez I'm so sorry I shouldn't have left you were right I need this job I need it really badly please consider my application, can I come back to office tomorrow? I have no other way to survive, I'd be very grateful if you could help me out."

That was exactly the opposite of what I was told to do.

Why—

It's okay Sawera. You're a human being. It happens.

I hear an ugly demonic laugh from his side, but instead of his usual long dialogues and what I thought he'd say, he says "For sure Ms. Sawera, you're more than welcome. I'd like to see you in office tomorrow morning."

I look at the clock. 7PM.

The calendar. 7th of March.

Tomorrow? I can join back tomorrow? How did he say that so calmly? He's not been nice to me even once before.

I buzz the confusion away and nod, "thank you, thank you so much. I'll be there. Good night."

I spend the night thinking of Azaan, of how easy his mind is. How okay it all is in his head. It's always been that way.

He's not as complicated as me. Yet he was willing to accept my complications.

Maybe someday he'll marry again.

Maybe, and who knows, maybe really, someday I will move on.

My biggest flex in life will always be that I once had a man who'd do anything for my happiness.

And I don't need to blame myself for ruining his life. This is the way Allah had wanted it to be.

I don't need to live in the guilt of ruining his life. He will be rewarded for what he has done for me.

I don't need to worry about anything.

Nothing at all.

Allah's the best of the planners.

It'll all end up okay.

It feels so weird to feel loved when you've not had anyone love you for so long.

Sometimes I'd think Allah doesn't love me, but I'm a human being. A normal human being who has done no harm to anybody. Not willingly at least.

And for the harm I've done, one apology to Allah is enough for it.

Allah will fix it all.

But then I think of my parents.

Since the day I was born, I've only seen them suffering.

A bunch of thoughts come down together.

This happens very often.

I sit down and write a letter.

A letter I'll never give to Azaan.

I started writing letters thinking that someday if I get a chance, I'd give them to him but I slowly realised I wouldn't. Even if I could, I wouldn't give them to him.

Nothing that I wrote made sense. But I kept writing.

I kept writing for someone to find them. For someone to help me out. For someone to learn from them.

Anyway, these thoughts remind me of something.

I search for a tweet of mine on the search bar of twitter.

i just thought about how shitty my childhood was but like in seconds yk, like an overall outlook bcs i was thinking what if my future spouse wants children?

-

bcs i don't. so i'll ask him how he has planned on bringing them up, right? so yea and?? bro like i've literally been getting death threats since i was like... four?? like wtf.

-

"the day you do x will be your last day on earth. i'll kill you, do you hear me? i'll end you, your brother, your mama, and myself." and, um, that's quite graphical for a four year old.

awful. traumatizing.

-

i think this generation was brought up so bad, the population will decrease a lot bcs many of us have had such traumatic childhoods that we simply don't want children.

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i specif. don't bcs i know awful times are inevitable and i don't want anyone to go through them when i have a choice of not having them go through them (i.e. of not giving birth at all, yk)

-

and ik it sounds cool to think "but i'll also be giving them many beautiful moments and that's all that counts. and i could give them a better life than the one my parents gave me." and yea but what if they're born w/ mental diseases or idk—

-

maybe someday i will be okay with the thought of one child, but one max, more than that already feels like too much crowd and i hate that.

-

but like, genuinely, whenever i think of my mum or even when i don't, but whenever i do, i just feel like having children is such a burden, like everything's messy and sweaty all the time and you don't have time for yourself. you already have one person to handle and that's yourself.

-

and the fact that they are going to grow up?? i don't like the idea of having to bear a teenager and their mood swings and shit.

-

but then sometimes i see newborns and i'm like, "but i'm going to be with them since day one and i'm going to be nice to them and watch them grow day by day and they're going to become my reason to live" and i kinda don't like the last idea.

-

but yea i hate when i get to know people hit their children and scold them and things, like it makes me want to cry my heart out. why? why the fuck? everyone has been scolded in life and we all know it fucking sucks.

-

and like, them scolding me for a mistake that i'm already sad about??

bro why the fuck? no, genuinely, why?

anger is the worst thing in all of them.

bro i've been scared for my fucking life so many times, i don't even remember.

-

i've seen it all end in front of my eyes so many times, i'm literally in tears right now.

people really give birth to a mini them and ruin their lives in this manner?

no, genuinely, everything frustrates me so much. i hate it here.

-

Alhamdulillah for our financial conditions, and i know there are worse parents but i hate this. i hate the fact that i've thought of suicide since childhood. like i never felt appreciated enough.

-

i remember i used to wish having cancer or something, i know, i know, i developed that thought because of movies and drama serials. the suicide one too.

-

but only because i saw that if that happens, your loved ones care for you. and i yearned for that.

no, i know my parents love me. i swear i acknowledge that there are worse parents. at least mine don't hit me.

-

i remember once my father raised his hand but he did NOT hit me. and that's a fucking hell lot. i can imagine how awful the lives of kids whose parents hit them are.

anyway, the mistake is mine. i crave attention.

-

gnight end of rant.

You know I've tried to self love a lot today but this shit is so fucking horrible, I hate every single thing on earth right now. EVERYTHING.

I follow the thread in my letter,

The mistake really is mine. I fucking crave attention.

I remember how Azaan once said it was okay. But it's embarrassing. And selfish. And it's really not who I am. I feel awful as I write this part.

Does he really think of me like that?

Sometimes I feel like Azaan knows me better than I do and that's literally such a ruinous thought.

Because overall I'm fucking awful, and if he knows me, he knows that.

I hate this so much.

This feeling.

There are times like now, where I feel all the embarrassing moments coming together and I hate the way people must perceive me.

I can't write this shit anymore.

God.

I get up and take my sleeping pills. This is going to kill me.

I can't do anything about my parents. It's the life they chose.

May Allah bless them, but they're horrible parents.

I open Twitter and for the first time in forever, tweet. The last time I made a tweet, it was on my eating disorder vent account.

I write it down.

Please don't have children if you're going to be a shitty parent or if you're going to yell at your children even once. There are always better alternatives than to make a child feel unworthy just to oust your anger.

-

I won't even say think ten times. Just don't. Even after you've thought ten times, don't. Shouting is never a solution. The child probably already feels miserable. Your shouting is unnecessary and no it's not your love towards them. You're not doing it for their betterment.

-

And if you're going to do it because of the old tradition and because your parents raised you that way and you're totally fine, then think again. Are you really totally fine? Once you shout at a child, it's over. It's never going to be the same again. Disrespect or fear is all you're going to get in return.

-

Let them make mistakes and let them grow with the will to learn through their mistakes instead of the fear of how bad of a scolding they'll get from the people that gave that human life to them. They're human beings and it's inevitable to make mistakes.

-

First of all, don't have children with someone you don't love. And when you have them with someone you love, um?? you're going to shout at what is a mixture of you and your favorite human being?

-

The fuck does a child mean to you?

My college friends still follow me. Azaan does too. I've not even changed my bio yet. 21 who?

Twitter will now go: Sawera tweeted after a long time, go check blah blah blah in everyone's notifications and ewwww. Not me giving advice while having a fucked up life and a useless good for nothing brain.

I switch my phone off and go to sleep.

~~~

God! Dumbass me switched off her phone what alarm was I waiting for??

I turn my phone on and watch the time.

It's 9:06AM already holy fuck—

I was supposed to be there by 9AM!

I wash myself as fast as possible and run out to... to have breakfast. I can't skip it. I can't skip a single meal. I know I was willing to relapse after acknowledging the feeling being hungry almost all the time gave me in Pakistan.

I've already gotten late and I have no excuse. I might as well get a bit more late.

I sit down for breakfast and decide to leave at 9:40AM. I'll reach there by 10AM.

I calmly prepare my cereal and scroll through my notifications when anxiety overtakes me. I turn off Twitter's notifications because there are replies and I'm not comfortable with reading them.

Agh, what Azaan said has stuck with me so bad.

So many things that Azaan said have stuck with me.

Like, are you a child? / it seems like she's not even trying / you always think of yourself.

So many more.

Anyway, he's been really patient with me despite those words. And they say patience is one of the purest forms of love. I've felt one of the purest forms of love. All thanks to him.

The notifications from Twitter disappear and I look at the rest of them.

Newsletters from some old subscriptions on my mail, some cosmetic products advertisements, and a... reply on the forum.

My heart physically aches so bad I feel the need to stop everything around me and keep my hands over my chest.

I got a reply very long ago that said something along the lines of 'a written talaaq doesn't count if it was written by someone else and three talaqs in one sitting only count as one talaaq.' but there was no professionalism or salam in it and it was downvoted four times.

I don't need the reply. It was a very silly question. I've accepted the fact that we both have different paths now.

But I know myself and I know I won't be in peace until I read it.

[mwah.]