Living A Lie

For the past few weeks, I have been at my worst.

I feel as if I am pretending. I am pretending. I’m pretending that everything is okay, that I’m okay, that my family’s okay, my friends’ are okay.

How are you? I’m fine. How are you? I’m okay. How are you? I’m good. How are you? I’m doing great.

I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. I am not okay. Not fine. Not great.

Can you not see? Can you not hear? Can you not feel? The sadness in my eyes, the quietness in my voice, the melancholy vibes I give off? Are you deaf, blind, apathetic?

How are you? I’m fine. You’re not fine Raiha, I can feel it. No, I’m fine, why do you think otherwise? I know you Raiha, something’s bothering you. No I’m fine, you tell, how are you?

I might not have been able to tell you over the phone but I will tell everyone now.

I have no friends. I’m all alone. People have so many faces. What’s real? What’s not? I don’t know anymore. Is the face they show me the real one? Or is it a lie? Is everything a lie?

I’m different. I liked to think of myself as unique, but I don’t want to be unique anymore. I don’t want to be different. I want to fit into a mold too. I want what they have; a small mind and small things that make them happy.

I am volatile. My emotions are at an edge. My mind is cluttered. I’m tired. I stand up for myself. They don’t like it.

I have dreams. My dreams are big, very big. Humongous. Cosmic. My dreams are big but I am small. I am not one step closer to them.

I am a failure.

My country is falling. I wanted to help it stand. I wanted to be its saviour, I don’t want to be anymore. I give up. I’m done. Everywhere I look I see malice. I see corruption. I see angelic faces. But with my mind’s eye I can see their true grotesque spirits.

I am losing hope. I want to run away. I want to be selfish. I want to be happy. I want to forget about everything. I just want one day of bliss with no boundaries and no limits.

I am scared. I will never be what I want to be. They will never see me as I want them to see me. I want to escape, to leave my responsibilities and flee.

I am living a lie.

I am a lie.

 

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5 thoughts on “Living A Lie

  1. alienorajt says:

    Brave and honest, Raiha; I can totally identify with your feelings of isolation – as I have often felt that way myself – and with the whole having to pretend that one is fine bollocks (technical term!!!). You will be what you want to be; of that I am sure. I always wanted to be a writer – and for all those years, then decades, of teaching English, that flame of passion wavered and dipped and leapt and fell into embers and, phoenix-like, flared again; I often felt as if the dream was a will o’ the wisp, floating into nothingness. But I never gave up – and neither will you because you have got a passionate soul too. My dream became reality when I was fifty-four years and five months of age – and it has been wonderful. I won’t say,’Be patient!’ or any of that platitudinous bullshit (because such words do fuck all for me, and will probably cause you to reach for the sick bucket!); what I will say it, ‘You are feisty and passionate and talented – keep the fire going in the forge of creativity!’
    Hugs,
    Ali
    xxx

    • It’s nice to know that at least SOMEone still believes in me! You have no idea how much your comment means to me. I wish everyone around me was like you, because you are one of the only people who understand me as me, but I guess that’s too much to ask!

      I know that I won’t give up, no matter how much I want to. But unlike the other women around me I just CANNOT live in ignorance, may it be as blissful as it is. I cannot stop myself from thinking and from feeling for others, no matter how much it hurts. People say I’m selfish, I just wish they knew what went on inside my head.

      I have a long way to go, and I need all the support I can get… Thank you for being there!

      Love – Raiha.

  2. I’ve been mulling a post on masks. It’s stuck in drafts, and unlikely to emerge for a long while.
    This, dearest Raiha, is the deepest lesson.
    Our masks are forced over our outermost beauty at a very early age; smothering honesty and innocence in equal measure. They become second nature.
    It’s not till later that we recognise the masks of others; usually through the painful, the unpleasant, the downright nasty experiences which they, smiling, are more than capable of inflicting on us with hardly a flinch or twitch.
    Takes a while to recognise our own. Even longer to find the strength of character to rip it off, exposing the honesty and beauty we have hidden for so long. No-one wants to be exposed. Our mask protects us. But till we cast it aside, it will always be difficult to breathe…
    Take heart, dear one. The world is turning, and in it’s very turning, changes from dawn to dawn. Be brave. The face held up to that warm, sacred light, can do naught but shine.
    xx

    • Even though I didn’t have the courage to reply sooner Elk, your words did give me a little hope knowing that it’s not just me who is tired of masks!
      Over the past few months, I have been slipping aside my own mask millimetre by millimetre. I wish I was brave enough to rip it off in one go, but I am scared that will leave me completely alone with no one around who would like to be friends with a REAL person, and not a fake one like themselves.
      It will be hard finding others like me in my part of the world, and until I do, I’m afraid the mask is going to stay on, at least in public, even though it may be a little askew. Dreamers are hard to some by in Pakistan. All women here are clones mass produced for breeding purposes.
      At the time I had written this post, I was shocked and scared because a few close friends of mine had accidentally let their masks fall off, revealing the ugliness beneath.
      I am happier now though, because I am confident that even if I do let the true me come to the surface, I will NEVER be as ugly as them!

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