WHY CARE ABOUT SUCH HONOUR

why care about the kind of honour

the norms of such honour

the so called “izzat”

which ruins the lives of your fellow human beings.

which mutes people.

which shatters dreams.

which takes away the light in people`s eyes.

which kills hope.

which forces women and men to marry someone they don`t love.

which closes the windows and doors.

which stares at you when you`re about to say something you shouldn`t say.

which ignores emotions.

why care about an honour

which doesn`t really care about you.

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//poem written by me

& photo taken from here (link)

EASIER, BUT STILL SO DAMN DIFFICULT

“Shouldn`t ask you how you`re doing, because you`ll ask me the same, maybe just for the sake of it, and I don`t really know what to say”.

Imagine if I hadn`t gone to Pakistan, imagine the regrets I`d be having at this very moment. Imagine if I hadn`t changed the date of my ticket or stayed here. I don`t think I can explain properly to anyone how relieved I`m feeling. I can`t explain to anyone how lucky I feel for being given the opportunity to meet my grandfather one day before he died. I feel so incredibly lucky, I can`t say that enough times. It was worth the money, the effort, the time. Everything.

I just came back from spending a month in Pakistan and it goes without saying that I miss being there, especially with my family. It`s going to take time for me to “go back to normal”, but honestly? It feels like some people don`t understand these kind of things. It`s as if they expect you to get on with life as if nothing has happened. I`m glad it`s the holidays now, because it gave me the possibility to stay in Pakistan for a month and I don`t have to show up at school.

If you were to ask me how I`m doing, I don`t know. One moment I`m in tears, the next I feel okay. Since this is the third time a family member of mine has died, I sort of knew it was coming. It hurts to think that my grandfather is not physically among us anymore. I won`t be asking my mum how he`s doing because I know she talks to him at least once a week and I won`t be able to ever see him again. The idea of him not physically existing is still very new to me and just thinking about it makes me cry. I wish I had went to Pakistan in March to visit him. Despite everything, I feel quite good knowing that I went to see him one last time and knowing that I got to spend as much time as I got to spend with him considering I`m his oldest grandkid.

A part of me wants to delete everyone in my friend list and get on a plane as soon as possible, but that`s just my head. I`m glad I`m going to the Netherlands, I need changes in my life. I kind of wanted to cut my hair short again when I was in Pakistan – who knows if I end up doing that when I`m in the Netherlands. Social media is too much, most people are too much.

Everyone grieves in different ways and I know that I need time. Time to process it, time to get used to it even though I`ll never be completely used to him not being around. Time to… think about it, even though it hurts. Time to cry, to feel everything deeply. Hopefully it won`t hurt like this forever.

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//photo: source