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Diary of a Broken Kid

It’s okay, I forgive you. As I sit silent watching this world pass by me. A world you made with such care and concern, especially for me. I know how hard it is for you to sit in your high chairs thousands of miles away from the streets I grew up in to make decisions for my future. I understand the concerns that you have for my well-being. Maybe I’m wrong, but maybe this is how all children grow-up. Perhaps this is the norm of things and the way that the world works. Every act you have committed on this soil; ally or foe has always been for my well-being. I understand that now, I see it now, but to tell you the truth I can no longer feel it.

My future lays in your hands, and oh God; with such care are you shaping it. With everything around me turned to rubble there will be nothing to harm me. But, then again, where will I sleep? Where will I eat? How will my mother wrap me in warm clothes and where will she take me in my dreams. When I close my eyes I no longer see the happy places that my mother spoke about, maybe they aren’t here. Perchance they are in a faraway land where only your children grow. I don’t want much that I can guarantee indeed. Other children may ask for sweets and treats and truck load of toys. But I, I only ask for a home, a bed, and a silent night where I can take an adventure in my dreams.

My friends use to tell me that where you are from the weather is quite different. Sometimes its cloudy with a chance of meatballs, even gum drops fall from the sky. They said they watched it once, a very long time past when I wasn’t born, about five years ago. But I never believed them, how can it be possible that meatballs fall from the sky? But since I’ve open my eye all I have ever witnessed is these meatballs falling from the sky. I’ve heard they fall because you want to protect us from a man or many men that want to destroy us. But I am so confused! Who is who? From where I sit, looking past this world you created for me I do not see how you are protecting me. I never asked for your protection in the first place. Quite frankly my mother and father and my home were more than enough for me. That was all the protection in the world I needed.

Are you quite shocked that I sit silently? No tears flow from my eyes, the gash on my head and the crimson that flows from within never fazed me. Well this is normal you see. I wake up to it every day. I was born to this. You may think; wow, a miracle born amongst all this chaos. What miracle am I? What miraculous act has my birth have on you? It does not deter you from constantly poundings my ears deaf, it doesn’t dissuade from lighting up the night sky in a blaze of fire.

But then again, I understand; yes of course… it’s for the best, my future. The very future you hold so dear in your hearts. But may I ask, oh countries of countries and men of men. What future is left for me? There are no schools left to educate me, no hospitals left to treat me, no water left to quench my thirst, no food left to feed me. You will not accept me into your homes, no one will. Not a friend exists to take me into their arms not on the shores of the West nor on the waters of the East.

So I sit silently contemplating the consequences of life itself. Was this my purpose to be born into this wildfire that seems to never burn out? Is my blood so worthless that it flows endlessly for your righteous campaign? Have I lost value to only become a small speck in the cog of your machine? In the end, when there is no one left to save and no more people to have a future, who will bask in your glory as our one and true savior?

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Shafaq Dar is an academic writer, currently based in Islamabad. Her areas of interests is women's rights in Pakistan and education & healthcare reforms in the country.

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اس ویب سائٹ کا مواد بول پلاٹون کی آفیشل رائے کی عکاسی نہیں کرتا. مضامین میں ظاہر معلومات اور خیالات کی ذمہ داری مکمل طور پر اس کے مصنف کی ہے