Why Facebook sucks

I have been very aware of the side effects of Facebook. For myself, that is. Because its so addictive, it was really hard for me to actually go and do something about not wasting so much time stalking people, putting up superficial status updates, waiting for people to like stuff on my profile etc. However much it helps me keep in touch with friends and long lost acquaintances, keeps me in the loop with world events, trends, hot sensations and other similar stuff, i don’t know if all of that should trump the state of my mental health. It’s pretty stupid when you think of Facebook driving you crazy- literally- but it’s true. One fine day whilst studying for some really tough exams, I kept logging onto Facebook for no reason- I realized that I needed to somehow find a way to STOP. So I deactivated my account on the condition that I would go back to it after my exams would finish. It’s been more than two weeks since the pact expired but I still haven’t reactivated my account. And I feel amazing. Here are some reasons why:

1) I can study for long stretches at a time without feeling the compelling need to check if anyone posted on my wall, replied to my message, or just to check if I have any new notifications. I also felt like i did a lot better in these past exams because I wasn’t distracted.

2) I feel less heavy inside. I was very aware of the fact that peoples’ lives upset me. For example, people going to parties that I wasn’t invited to or couldn’t go to, or people keeping in touch with those who I hadn’t made the effort with- and regretted not doing so. It made me feel heavy and jealous. I didn’t like the feeling and although I’m very aware of the fact that I am my own master I guess this is where my avoidant coping skills stepped in.

3) I was also very conscious about who could see what on my profile. There were pictures etc that I had kept on strict private settings but had people view them somehow or the other. I felt as if my privacy had been breached and didn’t like it. I made me worried and always trying to up my privacy settings. By deactivating my account I don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff.

4) I was a Facebook addict. There was always a feeling of anxiety about the stuff that I posted, whether I should post or not, what people would think about it, why people didn’t ‘like’ whatever I’d posted etc. it was ridiculous. So much social desirability. So much need for validation. It was sad. It was becoming cyclical and I was very aware of my thought processes and really felt as if there was a need to put an end to it.

5) I was very conscious. Overly conscious. Of what? To create an impression on someone specific. Someone who I keep writing about; someone who’s on my mind quite a lot. I was very conscious of what content this person would see, would try to make him jealous by carefully selecting ‘envy worthy’ stuff to post, would wonder whether he saw it or not etc. it was crazy. It was like a running header of a research paper you’re writing- just always there. So to break this chain reaction, I felt that it was better if I stepped back to put an end to it. I could delete him but something inside me doesn’t want to. Maybe in time I will find that strength.

I’m pretty happy without Facebook in my life. Sure I haven’t spoken to a lot if my friends for a while, don’t know about hot social networking trends, haven’t kept in touch with people who I can’t without Facebook, but I feel very happy and content. I like it better this way. I’ll probably go back to Facebook in a while when I can’t take it anymore, but till then I’m going to enjoy this vacation. 🙂

We are all so blessed

I’m very aware of the fact that most of my posts are negative and depressing- making me look like I’m always unhappy, ungrateful and often, mentally unwell. I probably am all of those things. But it’s days like this (days when I’m not PMS’ing lol) when I sit down and think about how amazing my life is- how I’d like to live this way forever. Sheltered, living with a lack of responsibilities, facing problems that are probably a fraction of what real life problems are like, living in a time and age when both my parents are alive and happy…and a feeling that tells me that my youth has just begun.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to live the luxury of following the routine of a student. Exams, sleeping and waking up late, socializing with friends during school, making fun of teachers, cramming last minute for final exams, taking part in student activities, chilling during a three month summer vacation and most of all, dreading going back to school after this long break. It passes by so fast, and has been doing so, that one doesn’t realize how it went by. I love the feeling of still being able to avoid responsibilities that I know I should be taking charge of; but I have an excuse: I’m young and don’t need to if I don’t want to. I can lay in my air conditioned room, watch Friends episodes all day, spend hours on Facebook without feeling like the pressure of life on my shoulders. I can rest against the softness of my pillow and write without a care in the world that I have an exam tomorrow morning.

I’m so lucky to have had ample opportunities all throughout my life and an amazing set of parents who’ve literally given their lives for my brother and I. I can’t imagine living without them. As much as I would like to explore the world on my own and be independent, in this very moment I’d like things to stay the way they are. I’d like my parents to never die or suffer in any way. I’d like to go to school everyday of my life. I’d like to have fights with my mom about late-night curfews. I’d like to get wasted at a club without caring how I old I am. Id like to preserve every inch of my youth and all the benefits that come along with it.

I graduate in 8 months or so. I’d very much like to slow things down and live like I’m never going to grow older and step into the real world. The real world scares me. It means change. It means that I’m way behind at this point in time. It means that I have to grow up. It means that I’ll never get this time back.
I love the way things are right now despite whatever other problems I go through. Doesn’t everyone have problems?

I’m so blessed. I have love, I have life, I have resources, I have intellect, I have health, I have enough money, I have education, I have friends, I have opportunities, I have memories, I have sense, I have family- I have the future.

My Attempts to Get into Your Mind

Got dressed up for you yesterday. Spent an hour doing my hair and makeup. Wore my sexiest bra. Wondered if my neckline was low enough. I wasn’t sure if you were going to be there but I did it anyway. That’s how much my thoughts about you control me. I accidentally messed up my hair and felt disheartened knowing I didn’t look the way I wanted to in front of you. I wonder if you noticed my effort. I wonder if you wished you had me back when you saw me. I wonder if you regretted doing what you did to me. I wonder if you wished you could turn back time.

I walked up to a group of people, not knowing that you’d be one of them. I didn’t know you’d come. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was awkward and angry- I hope you didn’t notice my insecurity as I waved past you to greet the next person. I hope I was able to mask my feelings well enough. I hope you were intimidated by this facade. I wonder if it bothered you. I wonder whether you were awkward too. Did you want to talk to me? Did you feel like I had the upper hand? Did it even matter to you?

I was standing outside. I knew you’d come to the same place soon. My friends were smoking. I don’t smoke. I wanted to prove something to you. I don’t know what it was. I wanted to show you I was stronger. I wanted to prove to you that I was more dominant. I wanted to show you how I’d changed. I wanted you to feel weaker. I took a cigarette and lit it- knowing I’d hate it. I felt in control though. You came. I tried my best to get you to notice what I was holding in my hand. I wanted it to bother you that i was smoking. I knew you hadn’t approved of it in the past. I hope it still did. I don’t know if you saw it or not. I hope you did. I hope you didn’t. You talked to other people around me the while that you were there. After a while you took my name and said good bye. I watched you walk away, the cigarette still burning in my hand. Did you notice? Did it work? Did you care?

I had imagined this scenario in my mind for a very long time. I’d imagined myself making you feel jealous watching me warm up to another guy. I’d imagined you feeling jealous and sad. Did you notice my attempts in doing so last night? Were you too busy with the lady friends you had by your side? Were you thinking about the girl who you’ve been serenading these days? The girl who isn’t me but who shares my name? Did you pity me in knowing that you’d moved on, thinking I didn’t have the slightest of idea? Or did you feel like I had won? I was hoping you felt the latter. I hope that you watched me and felt jealous that I was in my comfort zone. That the other guy wasn’t you anymore. That I had moved on. That I was good now. That I didn’t care about you anymore. I didn’t want to be the weak one. I never want to feel weak with you again. But do you even care about how I feel?

I probably won’t see you again for a long time. I hope I don’t. I probably won’t hear from you for a long time either. I think I prefer it that way. I’ll probably never know how much of an effect I had on your life and feelings last night. You’ll always be a foreign language to me. Incomprehensible.

I’ll probably keep guessing and wondering. Some things never change. Some dynamics remain the same.


I’m 23 years old. I’m a final year psychology major. I have my whole life ahead of me. But why do I feel like it’s slipping out of my hands so fast? Why can’t I get up and do the things that I want to do? Why do I feel something heavy pulling me down? Why do I feel so anxious?

I’m scared of ageing. I feel as if I already have. I feel the lines on my face although they’re not there. I sense the lethargy and pessimism that I hear accompanies old age. I already experience guilt for things left undone and words left unsaid. I pray to God to somehow turn back time so that I can relive the good times.

I’m only 23.

I’m single- looking for companionship; feeling the sense of loneliness that my grandmother says she experiences as a widow. The society I live in doesn’t really help my case. There are things people don’t know and will hopefully never know about me. My fear rests in the fear itself of these things being made public. I’m unhappy. I feel it. I’ve been in therapy for more than a year- somedays are good and somedays aren’t. I’m 23 and I’m tired. Exhausted actually. Physically, emotionally….spiritually empty..but in Spite of that, Thoughts overspill in my brain. They don’t seem to stop. They can’t stop. I try to make them stop but they don’t.

I’m also fixated. Fixated on a person who broke me while I was trying to fix him. I was 21. Ambitious to fix, eager to love and be loved back. I was good. Good was until I was used and abused and thrown aside. 2 years passed, and I’m still standing in a place I expected myself to have long left behind. Waiting? In a way yes. Hoping? Definitely. Regretting? Unfortunately.

I’m 23 and life hasn’t ever seemed this bleak. My misery makes me miserable. ‘Don’t tell me our youth is running out- its only just begun’ plays in the background. Ironic.

There’s not much to say. I’ve been trying for so long but on days such as today, I feel the weight on my shoulders- on my heart. My hands give in to compulsions as they pull at my beautiful hair- I want to stop. I’d like to be better again.

I’m 23. Hoping to get better.

Repost: 2012 and for the better

I wrote this last year (2011) but wanted to re-post it 🙂

In recent, I have begun to believe in the superstitious powers of the universe: karma, destiny, fate, signs and omens. I have come to believe that things happen for a reason- good or bad, often out of our control; I have come to believe that events occur to serve a purpose- a way that God communicates with us; I have come to believe that we will eventually reap what we sow; and finally, I have come to believe that our decisions and actions may reveal more to us than we could have imagined.

The year 2011 has taught me well, however cruelly. I began the year in a celebratory, cheerful fashion. “Happy hormones” were generously being excreted throughout my brain as my heart pulsated rapidly in my chest – it was great. The future looked bright and full of promise. I had recently stepped out of a bad chapter of my life and entered in to a newer, more exciting and, what seemed to be, a more rewarding one. I had finally rediscovered a social circle that I had previously been barred from having any interaction with. The lack of stressful factors and responsibilities that night was something that I had not even considered thanking God for because the feeling was something I had continuously taken for granted for a very long time. I remember being in a “good place”. It was all too good to be true. I still remember standing on my friend’s roof that night and looking out at the glittering Karachi night-view that was so graciously provided to me and thinking, “Tonight’s going to be the start of a better tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that. And the tomorrow after, after that.

Today, I have 27 days until 2012 pushes its way in to the limelight and it all seems too soon. Too fast. Too different. My environment and life circumstances have changed- in both, good and bad ways. I feel like I’ve matured and grown over the last 12 months in a collection of spheres of my “self”. I have made mistakes which have taught me more than any “How to Get Through Life” book could have ever taught me; I have taken innumerable faulty decisions for which I have had to pay hefty prices; I have experimented with and tried new things for which I am, both, regretful and thankful for; I have learnt to forget myself for the betterment of others; I have learnt to accept things that I had to concede were out of my locus of control; I have learnt the importance of certain people who are a part of my life which I previously ignored; and most of all, I have learnt to treasure the good things in life- my family, my friends and the bounties that God has blessed me with.

However, this road to enlightenment has not been the smoothest. In the midst of this ruckus, I fell off the path I had once chosen for myself. A path full of goals, codes, aspirations and glittering stars. I had always had a certain picture in my mind which had kept me focused in the past and directed; however, when things did cease to go the way I had planned them out to be, I realised that my energies were being channelled into a relationship which, now looking back, didn’t deserve the care. Time was spent trying to improve the situation, precious concentration splashed in to trying to rationalise every little ill-intended act that- it slowly became a ritualistic behaviour pattern of my personality. In addition to that, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer during the mid-summer months- which was a mixture of perfect icing on the cake and a tough reality check blended into one sour drink. “This is not what I’d planned. This is not what I had ever imagined”, I thought to myself. In a short time span I found myself becoming this ungrateful, pessimistic monster- someone I, somehow, could not identify myself with, but also a demon I could not detach myself from. My daily habits deteriorated, my performance in my day-to-day activities was a near zero. I was angry. And sad. And happy. And confused. All at the same time. I thought it would never end. But as I sit here looking back at the chain of events that occurred, I can confidently tell myself that I was wrong.

Monsoon clouds pass over once they’ve done their job; and although they may wreak havoc wherever they pause to relieve themselves, those who suffer as a consequence learn to cope. They may mourn and grieve at their losses for some time but in time they realise that, in order to continue living a healthy life, they must clean up the mess and move forward. So they take a breath of renewed strength and energy, stand up and begin the dreadful deed. They rebuild the homes they had once lived in happily and work towards making themselves financially sustainable in order to repair their lives. Although it is a mind-shatteringly tough feat which requires, both, psychological and physical strength, they may come out of the experience as stronger individuals. Similarly, in time, as I was able to overcome the shock of my mother’s health and face reality in the already-doomed relationship I was duelling with, I felt myself learning more than I felt I had learnt in the past year. I realised that life may throw dirt on your face, but unless you don’t make the effort to wipe it off, things would not change. I was able to foresee the implications of my negative stance on my future- I knew that the decision was up to me as to what I wanted to do with my current situation. My youth could either be wasted or utilized efficiently. It was hard to make the first step, to walk away from unhealthy habits, from relationships I cherished but could no longer make excuses for, distance myself from things that weren’t in my best interest and most importantly and most importantly- to put innate grief and fear in the background.

The road is rocky. It always will be. That’s life. But I’ve come to realise that there are events that we feel are out of our control when, in reality, they can be harnessed only if we want them to be. I believe in karma- I believe that whatever happened this year has repaid me in kind and will continue to do so. I believe in fate- things have a reason for playing out the way they do, however much we are unable to explain their occurrences. Lastly, I believe in signs- every event holds a significance that should not be overlooked or ignored.

However much I have hated this year, I feel like I have gained the most out of it than any other. I have come out a stronger, a more mature, and more grounded person than I was on the night of 31st December as I looked out from my friend’s roof. I look forward to what 2012 will hold for me, obviously in hope that it will be better than what this previous year brought forth. I cannot predict or control what God has in store for me, but I can only have faith in my credentials and belief in karma, for what goes around comes around.

From a Psychotic Girlfriend, With Love: “Five things I’d like to teach the average Pakistani Boyfriend.”

“So you call me crazy, huh?”

(A note to any idiot who will read this and get offended: No, this is satirical piece based on nothing factual.)

1) You made your choice, deal with it:

Think back to the time when you began liking your girlfriend (let’s name her Sadia to make my writing easier). So, Sadia was just the girl you thought would be perfect for you: she was pretty, confident, intelligent, sociable, had a body you wanted to keep holding all the fucking time, she laughed at your jokes although you knew she didn’t find them funny, she gave you those sexual innuendos which were oh-so-appealing….and somehow, despite being a tigress with you, managed to wow your mum with her domesticated facade. So, now, you and Sadia have really hit it off and it’s come to that point where you’re talking to each other all night, indirectly insinuating your feelings for each other, exhausting your SMS packages more rapidly than usual, and ofcourse, sickening your best friend with the stories of “ OMG ALI SHE TOLD ME SHE WANTED TO LICK MY CALVES LAST NIGHT!”

Eventually, you pop the question..she says yes, obviously and you two become an “item”. The first month is glorious: the excitement, butterflies, the awkward kisses which eventually improve and become amazing, the dates and sweet love talks ofcourse. But one day, Sadia tells you she doesn’t like that pair of green Converse sneakers you were absolutely loved. Okay fine. You didn’t wear them infront of her.

The pressure increases.

“Salman, I don’t like you talking to Ayesha. She’s such a slut. Why did she say hello to you? She only said hi to make me jealous!”
“Umm..okay Sadia…I’ll try to keep out of her way.”

But it’s not enough .

“Salman, do you KNOW what Faiz did today? I saw him staring at you. OMG he’s gay isnt he! You CAN’T ever talk to him again! Promise me!”
“Sadia he’s not gay. He was probably just looking over his shoulder.”

“I’m going to cry! I can’t handle this!”, comes the reply as she starts screaming her lungs out until you have no other option but to concur that Faiz, poor thing, is gay with a irreversible crush on you.

Two weeks pass.

You get a text in the middle of the day saying “When you messaged me telling me that you loved me, you didn’t add an exclamation mark at the end of it.you wrote “I love you.”, but not “I love you!!!!!” You don’t love me anymore! I KNEW it! It’s Faiz isn’t it! I always knew you were gay! I hate you! I hate your guts! Fuck off! I never want to see you again! I hope you die and get eaten by maggots!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “


Well, Salman. You made the choice, so now you have to live with it. I don’t understand why boys don’t expect girls to be emotional. It’s like its some sort of revelation to them when they experience it first hand. And they react in two ways; they either a) flake out b) cry

Relationships aren’t only about what you know of the person when you first start going out with him/her, but about the new aspects you discover; and yeah, that could mean that you run the risk of finding out that your girlfriend is a serial rapist (if you’re really lucky).

Like honestly, if you want no drama, no emo bullshit….go out with yourself. Masturbate. Your dick is your best friend for life.

2) No, I will not wear a shuttlecock burqa to that crazy party happening on Saturday night.

No, we don’t live in 400 BC anymore. No we don’t all support the Taliban. Yes, we like being sluts at times. No, I will not wear that shirt with a neckline that reaches my chin. No, my dad’s name is not Osama Bin Laden.

Boys think it’s very sweet and caring and affectionate of them to impose restrictions on their girlfriends which conserve their girlfriends reputation and dignity. But honestly, it’s pissing off.

Do I tell you to pull your pants up when your swagger around with half of your bright green boxers visible to the world? No. I don’t care.

Don’t tell me who I can or cannot go out with. Don’t order my food for me; yes I want that deep friend chicken drowned in heavy garlic mayo cream with a side order of potato wedges AND fries.

Don’t stop me from consuming what I want to consume. That’s my personal duel with God. You have your demons to battle when God will be asking you about that time your mom caught you having sex with your ex-girlfriend in your dadi’s bed.

Yes, I will act like a retard on ecstacy if I want to. I will be loud and obnoxious. I will cuss in urdu and laugh like a mad-man if I want to. Don’t make that disgusted face.

You chose to be with me.

And NO. I will NOT cancel my plans with my girlfriends just because you’re free after hanging out with your boys all day. No, I will not.

3) I’m not your maid.

Just because I’m a girl doesnt mean I’m your maid.

I will not wash your underwear.

I will not make your bed.

I will cook for you once in a while but don’t make it a regular expectation.

If you pee’d you pants by mistake, no I will not sit there and lovingly wash your boxers for you (the same applies if you thought you needed to fart but accidently soiled yourself).

Yes, I might enjoy some of the things I do for you because I like/love you, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t reciprocate. If I ask you to do something for me, don’t be a selfish bitch- be caring enough as to listen to me. So what if I want you to give me a bikini wax? So what if I ask you to play dress up with me and cats? So what if I want you to wash my period stained jeans?

Reciproate. Balance it out. Equalise the relationship. Don’t expect things from me that you expect your maid to do.

4) Yes, I will complain, nag, seek attention, be pampered. I have a vagina.

Did you think that I was born without emotions? Just because I was all cool and composed with you initially doesn’t mean that I don’t want to occassionally yell at you, cuss you out, cry my eyes out, want you all to myself, expect surprises from you, be taken out on dates, be pampered, be taken to that new boutique that just opened up although you detest going shopping or being bought that flower randomly?

Yes, I’d like you to empathise with me and give me what I want. Don’t get pissed off when I get my period. Did I choose my biology? I’m not a customized Subway sandwich.

Yes I will get pissed at you during my time of the month. Understand. What if you had blood coming out of your vagina for 5 days straight every month of your fucking life till you were 50? 

What if you had to either wear a mini pillow between your legs or stick a oversized capsule in your vagina (which by the way, you hadto pull out with a string that was attached to it. What if the string broke? Whatchu gonn’ do now, huh?)

Don’t give me bullshit about your ‘bro’s over hoe’s” policy. I bet if I told you I was lying waiting in your bed with only a rose in my mouth, you’d immediately forget all about this “bro code”. I don’t mean for you to ignore your friends, but maintain a balance. I’m not your pet iguana.

5) You’re the man. Act like a man, not a statue.
Please don’t act like a pussy. You don’t have one.
Don’t be an emo little prick. Don’t cry everytime we fight. Stand up for me when you need to (but don’t over-protect me).

No I don’t want a 10 page letter in my inbox after every fight we have, in which you tell me about how your feelings were hurt and how you were about to cry but stopped yourself until after I hung up.


But then again, don’t be an emotionless statue. If I ask you how your day was , don’t tell me you don’t know. You have feelings, you’re human.

And lastly….when I go bra shopping, NO you cannot come inside the changing room with me.