The odd effects of long vacation boredom.

Posted: January 29, 2011 in Mental Health
Tags: , , ,

I have decided to do something very out of the ordinary, and post fiction here. I have decided this because I am very, very, very, very bored. No really, if any of my Karachi readers want to hang out at the mall, I am so up for it. Yes, I am a mallrat. It has food, The Body Shop, Vincci, ice-cream, a killer Oreo shake, amazing clothes, and very cute boys. Not that I notice that kinda thing of course. *angelic look*

So a little bit about the thing I’m posting. For a while now, I’ve been mulling over an idea for a story in my mind, about a boy and a girl and an ugly breakup which sends the girl into a downward spiral of self-destructiveness. Anyway, I was in a bad mood, and when I’m in that particular mood, my characters always suffer. (I’ve killed waaaayy too many people that shoul’ve lived a few more chapters dude.) Anyway, this is basically from the girl’s perspective, when things have gone bad for  her, shittastically bad. Its kind of like a rant actually, to be honest it IS a rant. Only its supposed to be refined into a narrative of sorts, which I’m too lazy to do. Anyway.The poor girl, what a state I’ve made of her. She doesn’t even have a happy ending.

Oh one more thing, this should in now way be assumed to be an example of my original fiction because it is totally, totally unrefined and draft-ish. I mean, I’m a better writer than this, but I was too angry to write well and I wanted that element of craziness, the “Ghausia factor” if you may because no one knows crazy like I do. 😛


The Rant!

I’ve never been proud of, or happy with the person I’ve become, but I’ve always managed to keep up a delicate balance of not giving a shit, and suppressing the part of me that does give a shit. I’ve learned to live with it, and other than the occasional moment of angst, I manage to get by. But now, things just seem to be getting worse and worse. My life is hanging on by the seams, and I don’t know how long I can manage to hold on anymore. All the anger and bitterness and rage I’ve always bottled up firmly is spilling out, and that’s not supposed to happen, that isn’t the system damnit. It’s not supposed to make its presence heard, or felt, or seen, but I can’t keep a lid on it anymore. I can’t talk to my family anymore without yelling or screaming or bitching. I can’t not be angry at them anymore. They keep trying to handle me, trying to be understanding and ask me what’s wrong, which of course ,happens ten minutes after they sit and bitch at me, as if I’m not going to be hurt or pissed off by it. Why should I be hurt at the truth after all? I am an animal, I do have the trouble-making genes, I am out of control, I am awara, I am everything they say and more. And I don’t like being this way, I’m sick of it, the constant anger is draining me, I can’t sleep properly anymore, I have no peace of mind. I have no idea what I’m angry at anymore, and I just want to be left alone to my own devices. I’m hurtling on this self-destructive path and I couldn’t care less because I know, I know damnit, that life is not going to be good for me. Forget the part that I’ve deviated from my faith, good things don’t happen to sinners that refuse to repent simply because they don’t think they did anything wrong. I know I’m going to end up alone and unhappy and miserable and outcast, and I just wish it would fucking happen already. I’m sick of waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I know its eventually going to. Things are not going to work out for me. And it’s useless to let the people around me give me false hope, to convince me that redemption is possible. It isn’t damnit, I know it isn’t. But they keep trying and talking and yelling and I can’t fucking hear over the insane shrieking in my own head, let alone theirs. I’ve already lost far too much, things that never should’ve been as important as I made them to be and God knows, that’s fucked me up enough, made the anger and bitterness work. At this point, I say fuck this shit, I’m going to bed. But they won’t fucking let me do that. I don’t want to be fixed or saved, don’t they get it, I want to hurt and burn and bleed and cry and ache and fucking try to kill myself because that’s all I’m worth, it’s all I’ll ever deserve. I’m past the point of no return, and I just fucking wish they’d get that and leave me alone. I’ve already been abandoned by people already, burned so bad it took me months to recover. This, right now, the self-destructive downward spiral, it’s pretty much how my entire life will be. I’ve accepted it. I’ve embraced it. The sadist in me says, bring it on. The insane, deranged part of me welcomes the horror. But that tiny little assholish part of me that wants to be saved, it’s getting far too loud these days, and it needs to fucking shut up because its fucking with the sadist in me, its messing with the part that knows what’s in store, and is holding on to life by the balls, laughing madly as fate hurls shit at it.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be told what to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I just wish they’d fucking back off, because when the explosion happens, they’re going to get hit by the flying remains of what used to be their darling, and I have my own issues to deal with, handling the fact that they’re impacted by my self-destructive nature is not something I want.

Sometimes I really wish I had the balls to off myself once and for all. I wish I wasn’t so attached to all the things I actually do have, because then I’d be able to do what I want, what I need without any issues. But the fact of the matter is, the little baby cousins clinging to my legs, the annoying parents that just won’t stop badgering me to talk, the siblings that keep trying to understand me, the friends-James- I’ve grown fond of that part of my life. I’m going to lose it all eventually, and that will probably be the point where I actually do off myself. But right now, I can’t. And that’s the shittiest part of all.

2013 Note: I’m organizing this into the mental health category, rather than fiction, because I feel that this ill-written rant, though fictional, was reflective of how unhappy I was for a very long period of my life. Despite having made strides in my mental health now, I think its important to keep reminders of how badly I was doing, in order to keep from falling back into old self-destructive tendencies.


  1. Ali says:

    where’s the boy?

  2. OH MY GOD. You stole a page from my secret emo diary. How dare you.

    Haha, honestly speaking that did sound a lot like what I write when I’m fucked up. Erm. And I thought I was my depression-writing was grim and original! *sadface* Oh well.

    ANYWAY I think you should refine and complete this. I agree with Ali, I want to know where the boy is!

    • Ghausia says:

      lol well I was in a mood when I wrote this, so most of my anger probably channeled itself into my character and chances are that this part never makes it into the actual story. 😛 But its a great story in my humble opinion, and I haven’t started writing it cause every time I think of sitting down and doing it, some new development occurs which makes me put it off again till the story actually finishes. Retarded I know. Oh also, here;

      Karachi Lit Fest ka programme, I’m bummed cause so many great sessions are lined up for the same time. 😦

      • ooohhh and i don’t have saturday off either 😦 But its open to the public apparently, so let’s see if I can wrangle some time on Sunday and make it there…the programme is fascinating, I really wanna go 😦 anyway thanks for the details! I can now plan accordingly 😀

        • Ghausia says:

          Take the day off then, come ooonn you know you wanna! I’m coming armed with copies of my books to get signed. 😀 It is fascinating frlz but too many great sessions are occurring at the same time. 😦

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