that particular time.

A couple of months ago, I was talking to a friend at school about my 'safe place' and how there are very few things, people and places that can claim to offer a sanctuary that I often crave. As the years fly by, the safe places tend to reduce drastically. We came to the conclusion that college wasnt really a safe place, it was too fast paced, the bonds here too new, the relationships too volatile. Then, came home, Karachi Pakistan. I claimed that the entire city was a safe place, I knew it like the back of my hand. But coming back, with the city looking so incredibly different, the old bonds having rotted rather than riping with age, I feel like the ultimate foreigner here.

And so, the safe places reduced even further, my city oddly alien to me, the social group getting recognizably smaller (thank the lord, fake conversation gives me cramps) but the family unit remaining the same. I began getting bursts of pure love for my parents, my brother, even my maid who I adore more than life itself. Coming home past midnight to see the little one staring away at the Xbox, seeing my dad fall asleep while watching tv- small things gave me such an unexplainable high, a high that I had never felt before, a high that none of the drugs could ever come close to giving.

Last night, four in the morning, the two of us staggered home. I put on my best sober face, concentrated on walking straight, put on the alarm and all the lights and made my way upstairs, a warm bed and mindless tv awaited me.

What in gods name are you doing up? Oh Eid Mubarak and Happy New Year and all that.

Your old enough to know now.

Know what?

I might be making a mistake by telling you, but its better you find out this way than some other way, through someone else.

Know what? You're officially scaring me now.

And so, when the head did touch the bed, I didnt pass out with exhaustion. My eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness, my mind too intoxicated to comprehend. I wasn't old enough to know anything, I wasn't ready to let go of my final safe place, im still such a child, cant you see that? The appearance, the deep voice, the psuedo intellectual conversation is just an act, was it so well played that you believed it as the truth?

And now, on the first day of Eid, I must act happy. I must act like I havnt spent the whole day crying like an infant and get dressed up and make small talk and play with my insufferable younger cousins.

I need to tell someone, and Ive spent the whole day trying to figure out who. I woke up to a million missed calls and messages, I still have people who care, I cant really run away from them. But I cant, I cant make myself talk about it, I dont want anyone to know, no one will understand, no one.

Infinitely alone.

With no anchor.

Must stop shaking.

You know darling, my hearts been broken.
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, my mind is too strong to carry on.