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Monthly Archives: July 2025

Lost Half Moon …

Lost Half Moon …

The clock ticks in the dark room, and I stare at the ceiling, thinking of you.

Nothing feels special anymore.

Until suddenly, a familiar voice echoes in my mind after a long pause:

“Han Dani, kiya haal hai?”

And the conversation begins again.

You keep asking, “Aur sona, theek ho?”

As if making sure I’m not hiding anything.

I feel irritated. How can I get over this repetition of sentences and be sometimes ignored with silence? Sometimes I don’t know with the same replies!!!!

It’s been four years now…

Since you’ve been gone, I feel alone in this world.

There’s a space inside me only you can fill.

It feels like I’m flying with wings that I don’t have.

Any abrupt wind can bring me down.

That night, I watched the screen flashing your heartbeat and pulse rate.

The room was still. My breath felt heavy.

I was there by your side and looking at you.

And I asked myself:

“What have you done? What have you earned?”

You were the charming one, a parent’s loved child.

Among five brothers,

A son who had dreams… and the will to chase them.

Then hardships – life took you like a ship in the storm to the world far from me and us. And that’s where I lost you…

You were always far from me in life. I don’t know if you know me. I know you as a stranger. We seem to be strangers to each other.

But our connection was strong.

Unseen, yet unbreakable.

I remember those still looks and eye shines so much to say and explain. Since you’ve gone, I wonder who you really were.

Your likes, dislikes… Your thoughts stay silent.

Now, when I look at my son,

I see myself.

And in that reflection, I see you sometimes.

The laughter, the struggles, the charisma.

But after your death, I saw something else:

People came to me with tears in their eyes.

They said you were the person they count on.

The one who stood behind everyone, quietly strong.

They told me you were the best.

Was that really you?

I don’t know everything.

You are still the biggest mystery, the untold story I wish I read, word by word, tear by tear.

A book left open, but never finished.

I don’t know all of you…

But I carry all of you in me.

I want to be the best.

For you.

And for my son.

 
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Posted by on July 20, 2025 in General

 

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Ghost of Two Worlds

Ghost of Two Worlds

I’ve spent two years in the UK chasing a dream they sell you on postcards.

I left a high-paying job, a whole life behind, thinking I was chasing peace, growth, opportunity.
Everyone thought I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
But the truth is, the UK is a beautiful cage with velvet bars.

Have you watched The Matrix?
Escaping the system is nearly impossible.
Maybe the system needs a Neo.
I don’t know if I’m him — maybe I’m not.
But I know one thing:
This place just drains you. Silently. Slowly.

Every story has a why and so does mine.

That £3,000/month salary? It’s a mirage.
Sounds like a dream until reality breaks it down.
Rent. Council tax. Energy bills. Groceries. Fuel. Inflation.
They bleed you dry before you’ve even had a moment to live.
You earn in pounds, yes but you save in crumbs.

This system isn’t made for wealth. It’s built for movement.
Keep rolling. Keep spending. Keep working.
Just don’t stop. Don’t question. Don’t breathe.

And when you do stop, you’ll realize:
You’re surrounded by people but you feel profoundly alone.

Friendliness isn’t friendship.
Smiles at work don’t turn into dinner invitations.
“Brotherhood” isn’t care it’s just code.
Culture isn’t community it’s a coping mechanism.

You start to miss being seen.
Not just nodded at. Not just “cheers mate” and “you alright?”

They call it multicultural.
What they don’t say is , it’s multi-tiered.

Your postcode.
Your accent.
Your passport.
They still decide your cage size.
You soften your accent just to be accepted.
You dilute yourself. Erase tiny parts, day by day.

Representation isn’t respect.
It’s categorization. It’s decoration.
It’s how the system classifies you, learns how to consume you.

And that holy grail — work-life balance — the most seductive line on the postcard?
It’s just marketing.

In truth:
Wake → Commute → Work → Sleep → Repeat.
Your job doesn’t fit in your life.
It swallows it.
You give your sharpest hours, your best energy, to someone else’s dream.

And then came anxiety.
Not the word — the thing.
It’s not a feeling, it’s a web.
And somehow, you become the spider. You build it around yourself.

The endless “sorry” and “thank you”?
They’re not warmth. They’re social lubricant.
They keep the surface smooth, but kill anything real.
You’ll start craving an honest fight over a thousand fake smiles.

And so, slowly, you build a cave.
It’s polite. Quiet.
And lonely.

The seasons change and yes, the autumns are golden, the winters are white.
But the cold turns cruel.
The 4pm darkness doesn’t just end the day it presses on your soul.

Seasonal depression isn’t some urban myth.
It moves in a tenant in your mind and you become the landlord.

And yes, healthcare is free.
But mental health?
It costs time, hope, and patience you barely have.
“Free” doesn’t mean accessible.
It means you’re put in a line, waiting to be saved — long after the storm’s already passed through you.

This society, this land of sophistication and numbing comfort, runs on dopamine.
Chasing weekends. Chasing sales. Chasing holidays.
All to feel… something.
To remember we’re still alive.

Finally, you cant “go home.” You never. You leave one country and become a stranger in the other
You are no longer a pakistani and not even British.
You are a ghost of places, forever belonging to the space in between them.

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2025 in Uncategorized