there are some things only a pakistani heart understands. things like how fifteen
people can most comfortably fit into the smallest of cars, like how a cold, frosty glass of rooh-afza can bring delight to any guests face. it is the perfect host. nothing more, nothing less. even as the single mundane ice cube floats arrogantly at the brim of the glass, it is the only thing of importance in the world.
i sat down and thought about home today. i remembered everything about it - the good times and the bad. the night-outs, the sleepovers, the smoking-secretly-so-the-parents-don't-catch you. as much fun as that was, i could not relate to my past self. i have grown since then. i have known love, more than i had ever before. i have hurt more people than i can possibly imagine. i have cried into silence when my friends were not close. i have drained you of all your energies. i have grown.
you had always been there to hold my hand, to walk with me. you took off your shoes when i did mine - even though the sand was hot. a sweet gesture, quickly corrected when the sand became unbearable. you cried into my hands and i let you. you never let me cry. until now. until this day. today, when i cry i wish you were not the person you are, 'cause it would be so much easier to let go. to forget that you are more unbearable than the sand on that summer day, to remember that we were always made from different fibres.
'Let us walk down lanes with memories displayed in stores. Mannequins dressed in lightbulbs and shiny white clothes. Walk back to a time when sunsets were never perfect. Let us throw misguided birds unceremoniously into the sky. And when they collide, rainbows will form. Fuck the merrier half, and smoke half a pack. There will never be a you and I. Never.'
i have never cried like this before. it is how grown-ups cry when their hearts are breaking.
