We are a scared generation – scared to fall in love, scared to comit, scared to fall, scared to get hurt, scared to get our hearts broken. We don’t allow anyone in, nor do we step out and love unconditionally. We lurk from behind the walls we have created ourselves, looking for love and running away the moment we really find it. We suddenly “CANNOT HANDLE” it. We don’t want to be vulnerable. We don’t want to bare our soul to anyone. We’re too guarded.
Sometimes the only therapy you need is being with someone. Not talking about ANYTHING heavy or light. You just need someone to be there. To be there by your side. And you feel content, as if half of the world’s burden that you were feeling on your shoulders the other day, is no more there; vanished *pooof*. Your mind and your heart is at peace. Because words aren’t therapeutic, silence is.
It’s this movie I just watched (Idk why had I not watched it yet, it’s a release of 2007! But still can’t help myself writing a review) and I’m unable to find the exact words to explain how I feel right now. There ain’t everything that touches your heart so deep that you can’t easily reach out of that deepness.
The movie highlights that no matter what race we are, what ethnic background, sexual orientation, or what views we may have, we are all human. Unfortunately, not all humans see it that way. Plus, it’s hope, motivation and appreciation that keeps us all going.
One thing that grabbed me so bad throughout the movie was when Erin Gruwell (the teacher), on abusing one their black classmate by drawing a doodle of his with large face and big lips, says to her students: You know what’s gonna happen when you die? You’re gonna rot in the ground, and people are going to go on living, and they’re going to forget all about you. And when you ROT, do you think it’s gonna matter whether you were an original gangsta? You’re dead, and nobody, NOBODY, is gonna want to remember you, because all you left in the world is this.
So she tells the students to write a diary. They can write WHATEVER they want, their stories, worries, poems, phrases etc. At the end she compiles them and “The Freedom Writers Diary” is created.
It’s a true story by the way.
Highly motivating and terrific!
Hats off to Hilary Swank.
I’ll give it 9/10.
When I say trauma, I mean NUST – cutting the long story short.
I swear it’s like a pressure cooker situation bumbling upon your head. Like a bell always ringing. Whenever you’re about to take a nap for even a second, the bell rings. You can’t sleep! You can’t even breathe! A string remains attached. OHTs, lab reports, quizes, assignments, reviews, reports, presentations and stuff is always and always there knocking the door endlessly like an annoying neighbour asking for something and not leaving even if you ignore them.
You have to study every f****** second! No break, no nothing. Either, you’ll fail the course. Adding another thing, you’ll study the hellll lot but there will always be that one person in the class who knows that one point you don’t know *how could you do this to me! lol* and your grade’s ruined, big times!
At the end, being a NUSTian, I love everything about NUST except this super imposed education (cramming, specifically) burden and not allowing the students (poor souls) to even breathe – they always have their breaths stuck in their throats and you can see it in their eyes I swear! 😂
رحم کرو ظالمو! مار ڈالو گے کیا؟!
پوری زندگی اتنا نہیں پڑھا جتنا یہاں پڑھنا پڑ رہا ہے!
“Time’s running short. Things are changing and we’re aging. And I don’t know how to deal with this constant fear of growing up..
Replacing elders and moreover being involved in the practicalities of life. Everything seems like on a rail rush, if you won’t run faster, you’ll lose it! You have to run and run and run and run as fast as you can. Either, people will crush you under their feet..
Is this life? Growing up and being constantly fearful that things won’t be the same as they used to be. That this very moment won’t revise ever!
I’m affarid of this sudden but not so sudden change!”, she thought to herself as the clock ticked 3:00am and she poked herself, put a couple of morning alarms on her phone (because who wakes up on a single alarm bell :D), closed her eyes and wished for a peaceful sleep after a real hectic day.
Expressing makes you vulnerable to pain
So silence is a choice you have
People want you to express
But trust me..
Stay silent, it has its charms
The eyes speak
Your posture speaks
You don’t have to let your tongue exercise
Words can never replace gestures
And feelings need not to be exposed
What’s hidden is much more interesting to find than the obvious.
It’s been quite long since I’ve written something. Oh let me tell you I had a couple of really busy weeks.
I’m back with a good news!
I became Khala on 12th of February, 2016. Wali is two months old today, Alhamdulillah!
So, becoming khala is unexplainable, I swear. Everybody asks me, how do you feel about it? Like becoming an Aunt. I’m literally blank. I don’t know how to express feelings. I don’t know if this has to do something with being introvert but.. Feelings are so very, kind of, I dont know but you just can’t show them! They are inside you, in your heart, protected.
I’m always like that one child you see in the park with loads and loads of sweets yet no smile on the face- totally blank. Like, you know, sweets make kids happier but uh..
So you get it? That’s the actual scenerio. People feel really mysterious about people like me. But friend, it’s who we are. All natural. A little melancholic. A little ecstatic. Blend actually.
–So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be: The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Oh leave this confusion! Here comes, Wali Junaid. Khala loves Wali.
زندگی گزر رہی تھی اور میں ہر ایک دن کا طلوع ہوتا ہوا سورج دیکھ کر یہ سوچتی کہ شاید یہ میری زندگی کا آخری سورج ہو. زندگی تیز رفتار تھی، رک نہیں رہی تھی. میں لمحوں کو روکنا چاہتی تھی. ان ہی میں جینا چاہتی تھی. لیکن وقت نہ رکا. آج بھی سوچتی ہوں کہ کاش میں اپنی زندگی کے چند سال دوہرا سکوں. کاش وہ سال واپس لا سکوں جب میری ذرا سی کوتاہیاں میرے گلے کا پھندا بن گئ تھیں. کاش وہ پل واپس لا کر میں انہیں ٹھیک کر سکوں. لیکن وقت! میرا دشمن