no grace here...

I vaguely remember the school I went for kindergarten/primary ..and to be honest, it wasn't the best time of my life. If anything, I don't remember having very many friends for the whole time I was there ..maybe because their first language was Pushto or I was just that shy always being the youngest everywhere... I really don't know. Maybe that's one reason why I was always ahead too, because there were no distractions?

I remember in 2nd class, we had a substitute and while everybody else was busy making paper balls and throwing pieces of chalks everywhere, I sat in my spot and read. The girls, they looked at me like I was some sort of a weirdo and then carried on with whatever they were doing the second instant ...like I didn't exist at all. I didn't even give a shit back then. 

So when we moved from Peshawar to Lahore; Papa put both me and Hammad in P.A.F and things became a little complicated there for a while. Co-ed from an all-girls school, and the kids, they all just seemed different. Now that I think about it, it must be their social class? Just the whole atmosphere was a lot more competitive and I fell behind. That's around the time where I first heard the word "ehsaas-e-kamtari", too. Inferiority complex. Low self-confidence. It's not that we were of a lower class rank; how hard Papa had worked to give us a good lifestyle is not hidden from me. Its more how both Papa and Maa never let it get to us. We were just never brought up to boast or be materialistic for that matter. What I remember from those early days starting a new school in Lahore, is how Papa enabled me to be comfortable with myself. I say Papa because even though Maa is not separate from him, Papa, he just understood what needed to be done. He'd be pushy, put me forward everywhere we went, spoke so highly of me that I had no option but to match what he was saying... My dad, he left me no option, but to succeed. 

It's funny how quickly it all changed within that first year in Lahore. The lone quiet kid became the chatter box, girls fought to sit next to. The secret-keeper. The problem solver. Y'know, like the agony aunts they have in magazines? The sports person. The debater. The all-rounder. Huh. I am not tying to blow my own trumpet and neither am I perfect but the point of the story is that I've never looked back. I have never been embarrassed of myself since then. 

Never until now.

I said I hate you to him - this whole thing would have been a lot easier if I really did. 

I don't hate him. Don't think I ever can. 

I love him. I miss him so freakin' much. It's pathetic. 

Doesn't mean I'm not angry at him anymore..'cuz I am. So fuckin' angry and so so disappointed. Heartbroken and hurting.

I don't understand why I'm finding it so hard to believe - its not the first time he's left me? ..He should be the one who's ashamed, for more reasons than one; then why am I? .. Why do I feel humiliated?..

Sighs.

This whole situation is pathetic.