More Late Night Writing

Written 4/25 in the night when I couldn’t sleep. Been a little late on posting because I write it on my phone. 

An update: Later in this post I talk about a guy I met who makes videos on how to pick up girls. Since then, I’ve learned that this is related to  something called “pick-up” culture. I’ll be talking it more soon. 

I’ve had another odd and weird last couple days. My depression is getting at the core of me and I can’t shake it. Mostly, I cannot cry, and this is very difficult. I think I would be a lot better if I could just cry, but I can’t. It won’t come out from me. I feel the sadness dragging on me. I haven’t slept properly for days. I slept through class and I didn’t turn in a very important paper nor did I email back the people I am supposed to be working for this summer. It all seems so worthless and stupid and I can’t find it in me to push through. I spend a lot of time browsing Reddit lately on my phone. 

On Saturday night I went to a party and was reminded again that parties are not my scene. I saw the guy I had last dated there and he was very drunk so I told him he should stop drinking, but he didn’t really listen to me. I don’t know why I feel a need to control other people or act like I know better than them, when I don’t. I got excited when I first saw him though and wanted him to meet my friend, but it was honestly embarrassing. I went home from an already frustrating day. 

Sunday I was unable to get out of bed for most of the day, but there was a celebrity that came to my university for a meet and greet and I went to that and it made me very happy. I wasted my Sunday and didn’t get any work done which was what led to me being unable to finish that paper. It’s still not even done! I don’t know how I will answer to this. I cannot fail a class or I will not graduate on time, and all I really want is for this college thing to be over as soon as possible. 

It’s odd how they say college is supposed to be such important fun years of your life, and I don’t think it’s living up to any of that.

So here’s a good story: 

On Sunday night I went to meet with a guy I had met on Tinder back in December and had been talking to here and there. He is moving to Miami soon. I slept with him and it wasn’t that wonderful or anything, but I was so fascinated by him. Never have I met a person like that. I can’t put my finger on everything that is so odd about Aaron. We have a lot in common but nothing in common. There is something similar in our spirits but no connection whatsoever. Aaron is older than me. He comes from the hookup culture I’m still struggling to adjust to and understand. Is he a good guy? I don’t know. Later on we were on our phones and I said I would unfollow him on Instagram because I would be sad if I looked at his pictures (since he is moving) and he didn’t even like my posts back anyway. He pulled me up on his Instagram and it seems he didn’t even follow me. But actually, he did follow me, it’s just that he had 2 instagrams, and he didn’t realize which one he’s on.

Well, I’m crazy, so of course I figured it out pretty soon when I got home. One of these instagrams caters to his YouTube channel. Naturally, I look up the YouTube channel. It’s a series on how to hookup with girls and get laid. On his Instagram are ads about how he fucked 3 girls 3 nights in a row, and you can do it too! Just follow his channel, where you will conveniently find videos about “how to use snapchat to get laid.” He is currently making videos about how he goes into the “field” (eg bars and parties) and finds girls, and he breaks down his interactions for other men to see and learn from. I think it’s a series where he forced himself to go out every night. On one video he did actually videotape himself with women–whether or not those women knew they were being videotaped I don’t know. It’s definitely not fake. 

I knew these people existed but I didn’t think I would ever come into contact with one of them, let alone kind of fall for it. But then again, maybe I didn’t. Definitely didn’t like those other girls did. Aaron and I just hung out last night…it didn’t seem like anything he was doing for his videos. I had been asking to see him, and he’s leaving. And none of what I saw he does online surprises me. I don’t want to sound cocky or like I’m special, but I think at a couple moments I got through to this guy, as in, he allowed himself to be vulnerable to me and wasn’t acting. When I first met him, I knew right away which lines he uses on other girls, I could tell which parts weren’t that genuine and whole hearted, etc. I was brave enough to ask him deep questions on personal levels and happy to open myself up as well.  But I’m not special either. I think other girls can tell as well, as far as which lines a guy uses frequently. They’re just not gonna burst anyone’s bubble. 

Continuing on the line that I’m not special, I have to think that it truly is no surprise to me the kind of videos Aaron is making, so long until some other girl picks up and gets really mad? 

Because, I’m not that mad. I wrote down what I felt about the whole thing. But I’m slowly learning that I have no right to try and change people. These people exist and always will. They don’t see any harm in what they’re doing and are just excited to have found something they’re good at. I knew this guy didn’t really like me, I knew I was just there for sex, because as much as he worked himself up to be charming and caring, you have to feel that sense of charm in the lovemaking. Love was not made. I was touched and fucked and it was fine, but when you have sex with someone you care about or are genuinely interests in, it’s different. You’re curious as to the way the side of your hand sits into the intersection on their chest and how soft their earlobe is and how sensitive they are on the stomach right above their genitals. Good sex is a magical mixture of pain and pleasure. Bad sex only has one of those elements. Mediocre sex doesn’t really have either. 

I hate that I am still awake writing this. 



Written 4/23 2:43 AM

My eyes hurt—they need to be closed, but I think writing will make me feel better, and I haven’t written a post in a while. I have tried to, but I end up deleting it all because what I’m writing seems mundane, useless, and unworthy.

I am incredibly lonely. I feel like I lack social skills. I’m not sure what to do. I feel as though everyone has made their friends and I am just hanging out all alone.

I’ve always been okay with just me in the way that I can go out, go exploring, and have fun with just myself. But not anymore. Now I just don’t want to go out at all.

I do have some friends but I either secretly do not like them much anymore or they don’t see me as a very close friend. I’ve had these problems all my life. Only once did I ever make a good friend on my own, and that was with Bo, so naturally I miss him a lot once again. Am I even capable of making a true friend like that again? Or open to it at all? (Which is a different, yet equally complicated and concerning issue)

Sure, I would like to date casually and I’m open to it, but I am afraid to go out or go to bars. I even try online things like Tinder but after a while it seems so dry and worthless. I am so afraid of the world lately and it feels hard to go on.

I just want to dig a hole and lay in it forever, let the only sound be the earth around me and let the earth around me make my bed. I want cold dirt in my ears and in my hair and pushing into my fingernails and I want to lay there until it gets warm, in the way that pool water gets warm when you’re there long enough. And then I want to go to sleep.


Written 2:43 am

My First and Last Serious Protest

Written 4/6

Today was a difficult day. My eyes close on me. My words must be written.

2:16 AM. I will publish this later.

I stayed in bed because I didn’t do my homework and then I realized I had skipped a quiz and then I realized I had skipped a trip to the art museum and then I realized I could have just done my homework and then I realized there was another assignment I was supposed to submit but I didn’t and then I realized I truly, genuinely don’t care. But I also kind of do, not because of the grade, but because I missed an experience, because I stayed a slave to my bed today when I could have been doing other things.

Eventually I got out of bed. I went to a protest tonight and it was my first protest and maybe my last, not because I had a bad experience, but because I’m not sure if it’s my scene. There are very few things in this world I’m willing to fight for or that I believe passionately in. I see injustice in this world and it angers me but I don’t know the right way to go about doing anything. This organization has tried other ways and been rejected, and tonight, the people were not treated fairly or with compassion.

I do know that compassion is important.

Sometimes I worry that the police believe, and others perpetuate and agree, that it is us vs. them. It doesn’t have to be that way. Often times officers are just following orders and the cause being protested is not their fault, however instead of acting like a neutral force they see themselves as superior and create a dichotomy between citizens and police. They represent an establishment they do not have to. Besides, who is to say they are not citizens as well? They are a part of us. We’re all just human beings with beliefs. Both the protestors and the police begin to forget this. We dehumanize each other. This is not okay. Police end up on the wrong side of history, but does it really have to be like that?

Protestors hide under the guise of exercising their rights, and policemen hide under the blanket of keeping peace and safety. Why use the word “hide” here? In an ideal world, people really ARE just peacefully protesting and the police really ARE there just to make sure everyone is safe and following rules, but in the throes of passion, each side begins to inch across the line. The police get angry and begin to think about their loyalty to their occupation, how prestigious their job is, and how annoying these protestors are being. The people get angry and think about whatever injustice they are fighting for and get caught up in the moment and just want to blame anyone that even partially represents that which they are there for. We create division. We see one another as the enemy. It is not necessary.

Protests are stressful, for the protestors, and for the police. But not for the real issue. Not for the people in charge of or capable of changing an issue that is being protested in the first place. The president of the university probably went home safely and was asleep by the time all the protestors went home. Eventually, the next day, the issue and the people in charge might take some strain and stress as it gets talked about and covered. But the inconveniences of all the people who are there that night don’t matter to them. It’s an event. So, for all the pain and division it causes for protestors and police, is it really worth it?

That’s why, maybe, it was my last protest.

Masks I Wear

I am so angry. I could rip everyone* to shreds.

*Funny, I thought I just wrote “everything”, not everyone, but I just read over it and it seems that I wrote “everyone,” and that’s fine.


I don’t know what to type because I feel very speechless. I am very romantic in a hookup culture. I’m small and naive. I suffer from depression and it’s hard for me to put myself out there. I feel anxious around other people. I always feel like such a bother and a burden. I consider killing myself a lot, or at least just punishing myself in some way, letting myself suffer and not taking proper care of myself because I’m not worth caring for.

I was dating a guy who I thought liked me but I wasn’t positive liked me, but I thought I was probably just being paranoid. He could never get an erection and I thought we could move on from that but it turned out it was just me. He wasn’t attracted to me. I’m really not that hot or gorgeous, I know that. He hid some things from me so we didn’t have some things in common like I thought we did and I found that out now. I was a symbol of the elements in his life that had oppressed him. No, he didn’t say that outright, but….ouch. It hurts a lot. All he really wanted was sex, and when that didn’t work, I guess I became kind of useless. I broke up with him, is what he said, but I was going through a lot. I was confused. I just wanted a moment. He was drunk–how could I have talked to him? I expected him to reach out. He said he hooked up with someone else and it worked out for him. So it must have been me. I didn’t really think we were even totally broken up. I wanted him back, I wanted to be with him again, now he’s blames it all on me.

That would be okay, except for I take the blame. My twisted logic allows me to take this kind of stuff and internalize it, and decide that I am the problem, that things could have worked, or at least not ended so badly, had I only not said or done this or that.


He asked how I can become attached to him in just a month, but it’s because I’ve had no one for so long. Because I have felt lonely to the bone. My depression has stripped everything from me. I have no coping skills to handle problems like this. What is hurtful to one person is extrapolated into something that can actually physically harm me, something that is out for me and wants to get me and take my life. Heartbreak shatters not just my feelings but my entire existence. I feel my brain breaking apart into little pieces and for days I am out of my own body, simply a ghost of myself, afraid of myself. Nothing runs anymore. My bloodstream seems to be flowing in the wrong directions. I am unable to walk, speak, eat.

The one thing about people with chronic depression is that we don’t have real coping, recovery skills, instead we have invisibility skills. We can make ourselves into something we’re not so the general public can think that we are okay. I call myself an artist but that’s my purest artform: creating masks for myself.

>>>>>> Ouch, it hurts to be a human. …

royEven though I recognize now that I must grieve, I can’t actually grieve because my automatic disposition is to begin construction of my mask that will cover and suppress my grieving and pain for the next cycle of existing, until I move on even a little bit.

I never really moved on from any of my heartbreaks. I made masks. I operated within them, until they became less effort to dress up in. Until it seemed normal for me to be wearing a mask. The mask is normalcy. I am normal. I am okay now. I’ve been pretending to be okay for so long, that I must actually be okay. This was my logic.

Instead I still wear those masks, they have just become a part of my skin.


At least, as of writing this, I’m aware of it…


All Images are Roy Lichtenstein originals. He uses “benday” dots. These images spoke to me tonight. 

Insignificant Ramblings #1

I’m back at home this weekend, not really sure why but I am, and I’m just making the most of it. This past week was hard with the whole thing with my ex. I’m pretty positive he has blocked my number because my message was never delivered. I feel sad and I don’t know what I did wrong. I just published a post I wrote on Wednesday and Thursday about all of it, because I wanted it to be a part of the timeline on this blog, but right now is the end of Saturday. I’ll just write about various things.

I began reading the Kite Runner and I won’t spoil anything but the part I just got to was very disturbing, to the point where I felt sick. The writing was that powerful. I am haunted by how well the words got to me. As a writer myself, I feel like this is something other writers want to achieve but at the same time, I don’t know if I do, because it really shook me up. I think part of the reason is because my parents were wary about me reading this book. They are Pashtun, the ethnic group talked about in the book, and then of course with any books that have explicit things, I am a child to them, especially my dad. My dad read this book a while ago because of how famous it was getting and the fact that it dealt with Pashtuns, and although he has just recently started reading, he wasn’t a big reader or into reading at all then. It was always a book my dad said we shouldn’t read. But, there, I did it. I’m reading it. I can’t understand why I feel weird about it.

I am totally against censoring of books but I think there are points where we are more or less ready, in our personal lives, to handle certain stories. In these past few months of my life I’ve come back to books I passed up previously because I wasn’t sure if I was ready for them. I’m glad I was prevented from reading it any earlier.

I’ve had a good weekend of, actually, talking about my sisters to my dad. My dad sometimes thinks we are going to stay with him forever, but the truth is, we’re not. We each want to do great, and in a way, I want to tell him it’s kind of his fault for instilling a curiosity for the world in us. I have been pushing to get him to understand that one of my sisters wants to do global work within medicine. Of course he knows the medicine part, but the traveling part? And the same with my other sister. She too needs to travel and has more potential than he recognizes. Oddly enough, I find that now that he has become a reader, he has become a better listener. I believe so deeply in the power of books.

Whenever you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow in more light.

-Vera Nazarian

About me? I do want to do peace corps, but I also just want to hide under a blanket and not come out, and my most important concern is that my health gets better. I’m not going anywhere or getting approved to get anywhere carrying all this baggage. I can’t think about what I want to do tomorrow, let alone in a few years. The thoughts frankly terrify me.

My mom fell today. I was so hurt by it, watching her scream on the floor. We need a softer floor. We need a warmer place to live for her joints. I need to be here, is what I start to think. What if something happens to  my mom? I have to take care of my mom, I think. I need to do something. I feel so helpless watching her there, I feel my heart breaking. I just want her to be okay. I don’t know what I’ll do without her…

I’ve been having weird dreams, I see myself, and I’m so mad.

I need to sleep, don’t I?




Review: The Last Day of March

written 3/31

This is going to read a bit like a journal post, which I have never really loved writing, but I feel called to write today.

So many weird, stupid things have happened.

On Sunday night, I went to the dining hall where I used to work and L works now as a manager, which is where we met. Now, he has been avoiding me, but what have I done wrong? I’d been hoping just to run into him. I’d walked around the library he frequents looking for him. I’d gone inside the business college because he’s a business student even though I have no business being there. And I’d sat on a bench with a view of the street corner he may pass. I don’t know if it’s creepy. I’m just frustrated. I don’t want to bombard him with text messages or calls. I just wanted to chance “run into him” and talk. I needed to see him, it was during me mad.

So I went to the dining hall, and I asked Kaleb, who was working there as well, is he working tonight? I knew the answer was yes but I asked anyway. And then I got there and I saw Kaleb and I asked, is he here? And Kaleb teased me but he didn’t get it. He told me just to go to the back and talk to him, but what kind of proposition was that? I didn’t work here anymore. I didn’t have any right just to be walking around, even if a manager had told me to do so. Did Kaleb want me to go tell him to come say hi to me? No, don’t do that! Why, you ask? I don’t know. Just don’t. Oh God, don’t do that.

I was so nervous! My stomach tossed, I couldn’t concentrate. I had a test the next day and I hadn’t studied because I couldn’t concentrate. I kept getting up and moving where I sat and then getting up again and moving again and walking around and hiding myself and looking and looking and looking, and then I saw him, come out and kind of look around, and I wondered if Kaleb had told him I was here and looking for him. But before I could get up, my phone rang, and I couldn’t ignore it. It was my mom and I was low on battery and I had been texting her and I had to let her know I was fine and going to sleep and whatever. So as I talked on the phone to my mother, my eyes were glued to him, and I ended the conversation quickly, but he walked away. I got up and I looked around but I didn’t want anyone else recognizing me either so this was hard. So then I thought that maybe I would wait by the entrance to the dish dropoff, but no, that was too open, I wanted to go back to my old spot, so I went back to my old spot, and I tried to eat, and I couldn’t, and so I felt like throwing up, and eventually, EVENTUALLY, there he was.

We kind of walked up to each other, and I asked if he heard about what happened in Lahore and if all the people he knew were alright, and he said yeah, and he was just rambling about something, and I looked at him, and he was very handsome looking to me, but in my head I was trying to taint him. I tried to think of things that were ugly or I tried to augment certain features but honestly I’m not too fixated on looks when I like a person, so my attempts to trick my own mind didn’t really work.

Of course I was putting him on the spot and he wasn’t sure what to say, and maybe everything I was doing and saying was wrong but I did it anyway, because this is who I am, this is how I am, and I’m stubborn.

Now he won’t reply to my message again, and I said: I know I can’t force you to talk to me…

But do I really? I don’t know anymore what to call it: determination, or creepiness? Let me just crawl into my little hole here you see.

Yesterday was very bad. Terrible. I was telling myself, no this isn’t a day where I can’t get out of bed, no this isn’t my depression, I’m just chilling. I’m just chilling out in my bed for the morning. I’m just chilling, playing on my phone for a bit. I’m just browsing reddit. I’m just lying back down. I am just about to get up in just a second. Right after this, I will get up. Okay, I gotta take a shower.

I did take a shower.

Okay, I gotta go to class.

I didn’t go to class.

I didn’t really leave the room until the evening, in the darkness, I went outside for no reason other than to go outside, and walk around, and I didn’t feel any better.

I sent a message to Aaron that I wanted to kill myself and I know I put him in a bad position, but I did it anyway. I do whatever I want. I’m not rational. I don’t really think. I wish for all my fantasies about Aaron to go away now. I don’t want to be with him or sleep with him or talk to him. And just like this, as I type these words, I do feel it slipping away. A door closed on a person, a decision made. And I’m glad.

At the same time I feel he’s not the only person or thing I’m closing the door on. With so many friends and relationships I am drawing back. I am sinking into myself. I feel like the one things that could brighten me up is L. I want back L. I made a mistake.

Today I am out and about but it’s not like that means I am doing any better. I still feel so disoriented.