April 22, 2009. I remember sitting in the Coach Canada bus as it slowly made its way out of the berri uqam bus terminal. I forced myself to take a mental snap shot for myself- an imaginary keepsake if you may. The snow was slushy and brown in some places, in other places it wasnt even present. Spring had freshly arrived. But in Montreal, you don’t realise it’s spring until atleast may. I had taken the 530 pm bus on purpose- it gave me a chance to spend my last day in my temporary city and say goodbye to it one last time. I had hoped that the su would set later that day so that I would be able to catch my last glimpses of sights and sounds I might never ever be able to experience again. It was one of the most emotional rides of my life (pun intended). I was lucky to have an empty seat next to me so I decided to sprawl myself in both seats and try to relax myself. I couldn’t help but think of the year that had just passed by – the people I’d met, the lessons I’d learnt and wish id learnt, the mistakes I’d made, the good times with some of the most amazing people I’d gotten a chance to meet, the bitches I’d wished I’d never met….and the most amazing educational experience I’d ever gotten. I still remember crying silently wishing that I could turn back time And do everything again- the right way, this time. But I knew that I didn’t have lady luck on my side.. Call it karma or call destiny..I call it fate. Fate that was hard to swallow- and still is- but someday..someday soon..I hope to digest it.
Two years later, I sit here writing this. It’s taken me innumerable therapy sessions, a break up with an ex boyfriend and the support of some of the most amazing friends in the world to be at the place I am at right now. Considering how hung up I still am over fucking Canada. You probably think that none of them made a difference. But they have. In their small little capacities.
I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people on the way. I’ve deposited and shredded friendships, broken the heart of a boy who worshipped me like no one probably ever will, fucked up my studies, reduced my professional credibility and most of all…lost myself in the process. The person I am today. In my opinion, isn’t the person I was and am supposed to be. I consider identification of the problem step 1 of finding a solution. I don’t know how I’m going to move on to step 2 but I know that there is a way- I just have to stick it out, feel the pain and move forward. It’s been two years since I’ve been back in pakistan- that’s no joke. And to still cringe at the sight, sound or smell of anything related to Canada is ridiculous. Its something I want to separate myself from; I thought cathartic writing should be my next step towards ‘independence’.
My life in Pakistan is wonderful. I’ve met some amazingly amazing people- my best friends. People who love me for who I am no matter what I do or have done, parents who are there to support me through thick and thin- to protect me from all the negativity that may attack me, a university which sucks balls but still provides me with knowledge..I feel wanted and loved. I feel secure. And happy. I have a moderate sense of stability now. I’ve moved on from my previous shackled and turbulent relationship after a lot of shit. In relation to that, my only regret is that in the process I lost one of my best friends in the world- a boy I care about like crazy- its just that sometimes your craze is platonic more than anything else- and as much as you try, you can’t force yourself to feel a certain way.
Here’s to my 2nd anniversary. Happy anniversary Sara. Here’s to fucking Canada out of your memory. Here’s to moving forward.
Two separate people. Separate entities.
Fragile; please handle with care.