Archive for October 19, 2003

The Runaway … Part 10

Well it is the morning after. I spent the night at a friends house. I got up early and left. I do not want to pull other people into the vortex that my life has become.

Well I am going home now. I talked to a very good friend of mine about the whole situation. He made me realize that these problems are not due to anything else but the fact that my mom knows that I am gay. I am sure it must be very hard for her to bear. I cannot blame her. So well I am going to have to come out to her. Since my cousin was already forced into telling her that I am gay I think I should do it as well. And stop her from both hurting and be scared.

I hope things work out. I just hope I do not hurt her very much. I mean come on. Only son … gay. WHOOSH! It is like shattering all her dreams and taking away everything that she might have fantasized about for the last 20 or so years. I do not want to do that. But then again it is her fault for snooping and forcing people to tell her the truth. She violated my privace now she will get hurt. I can not do anything about it.

In a country like Pakistan. Belonging to a muslim middle class family. I have no idea how to come out to my mother. This is not the west where people come out every day and there is a whole concept behind this. This my dear is Pakistan. And I belong to muslim middle class family. What do I tell them. That I am interested in men. My mom never even teased me about girls in my life except for when I was very young.

We are very very frank with each other in my home but this is too much. Anything relation to relationships like these are not discussed. How the hell am I supposed to talk to her. What will I say. I have no idea. I will have an idea later on. But now I dont.

So wish me luck that I do not kill my mother with this horrible news. It is one horrible thing to tell ones parents. I can now imagine what so many people go throught when they have to come out to their parents. I hope she takes it will. I know she will not.

The Runaway … Part 9

My mother knows I am gay. Which is hoorrible. Because Pakistanis in that generation can not be open to the idea. They cannot be ready to accept or live with that. Because they never saw it. So they dont accept it at all. Well I am an only son which is a very very lucrative position on society. So it gets worse. I am an only son and I am gay. I havve no idea how she is dealing with this.

I dont want to hurt my parents. But they will be. They will be hurt that her only son is gay. I am sure that when I was born and maybe even before that they would have thought about me. Fantasized about the life of their son. They would have thought of my family and my wife and how they will get along perfectly with her. How they will have grandchildren. How I will have a perfect life. They would have fantasized and thought about this so so much. The family and its progress. But well I cannot do that. They will be shattered. I dont know how I will ever tell them that their can not come true. That they will have to see thier lives turn into futile exercises.

My father and my mother. They are both reasonably religious and I dont have any idea how they will take it. How they will feel. What they will think. I cannot tell anyone else. As my abnormality will cause the family honour to be wiped out. The ‘izzat’ or honour of my ‘khaandan’ or family will be finished. Noone will marry my sisters. Noone will respect my father or mother. Something they deserve because of their honest lives and their hard work on raising their cildren. This will be a devastating blow to my parents. It is well understood that honour and dignity are more important than everything. Death with honour is preferred without question to life without it. I have idea how I will pull my family into this.

I am ctying now. I am dfukckgn criyng. I am crying…

I am ctying now. I am dfukckgn criyng. I am crying alike a fuckinggirl.

The Runaway … Part 8

Well I know these are issues that you have to deal with. But it is hard ok. Hard to deal with the same thing day in and day out. The same thing. It becomes stifling and kills people slowly. I would have loved to deal with these problems. But I cannot talk to my mother. Due to college I am used to talking to rational people.

I tell and issue. You think about it. You reply. Then I listen to you. I think about it. Then I reply.

SHOCKIGLY I couldnt do this with my mom. She doesnt listen to me at first. Then I get irritated and I start to disrespect her and to talk in a completely unacceptably uncultured way(I know I am wrong and I am sorry about it) but I cannot help it. Then she starts getting all judgemental and the talk goes to fuck in hell. We cannot talk because I cannot get the idea across which she might want to listen to.

At times she says the most absurdaly shocking things. Well once when I was criticising her. Yes I agree I shouldnt but I cannot stop It is what I am it is what I am like and I dont do it a lot just oon two or three things that I really hold close. Well she went so far as to say that someone has had some magic done on me so that I start hating my family. this will BEVER DO. I cannot talk to someone who will blame everything on magic.

This happened today as well. As soon as I entered the house she scowled and behaved in the most aggressive, hateful, vengeful and angry way just like she has been for the last 2 weeks. I am human too I responded. And she said that the house in Manhoos – Bad Luck. And that as soon as I enter into it it changes. I cannot talk to someone who is like this. I mean come on. Why wont you ever think of what is wrong with you.

See how she shifts the blame. I have been accused to being under a spell too hate my family. I cannot talk to them. They FUCKINGSTAERT TO TALK ABOUT MAGHCI. How am I supposed to get my ideas across to them. I can not. I can not talk to her. SHe will never listen to me rather she will think I am under a spelll and blame that. So no problems will ever get solved.

This is one of the worst nights of my life. I have…

This is one of the worst nights of my life. I have left home and I am in a cyber cafe that smells bad.

The Runaway … Part 7

She does not have any respect for my privacy. A little while back I got two letters. She opened up both of them. WHAT THE FUCK! MOM! GET A FUCKING EDUCATION! WHERE DID YOU GROW UP ???? IN A BARN ? I had a huge fight with her about this. Then she snooped around in my closet. She actually looked at private stuff that I put in there because I had no idea someone would be looking inside my closet. If it was my sister who is about 11 then it is ok because she is YOUNG. But my MOM. What kind of a person would do that. She still routinely checks on my things. And I fight with her. She will not stop. She thinks it is her right.

Then she conitnuously keeps moving my things. All the time she keeps moving things from my room outside and things inside. Everytime I leave the house and the room. She changes something. She moves furniture in and out. She moves my stuff in and out. Without asking me. She just moves things. Sometimes I work hard in arranging things but she doesnt givves a fucking rabbits foot. She just moves things because she wants to make it harder for me. And I have had a fight with her every time and she NEVER listens. She always does that.

Now you tell me. If you have a huge fight with someone over something. You get very very angry that you punch the wall with all your might. And you tell them not to touch your stuff. And even if she does then nto move it too far away. But she enever listens. What does it mean. It means she doesnt care. SHE JUST DOESNT FUCKING CARE! SHE WANTS TO HURT ME! That is the only way I can see it. There is no oterh possible explanation.

Can she really be so seriously boorish that she doesnt know what privacy is and that you are not supposed to move other peoples things arbitrarily. Or does she do this due to some reason. I sure as fuck cannot decide. What doo you think >?

The Runaway … Part 6

And what is with the cooking. Well she cooks. I love her food. Then she wants me to thank her. She wants me to say that I appreciate that she cooks the food. And she wants me to say thank you. I know it is a reasonanable thing to ask. But what the hell. I am the man of the house. If there is a noise at night. I have to check that out. I have to check out things security wise. I have to check out that there is noone prowling at night. I have to decide to use the other door and other window so noone will think about gonig in.

I do my share of things but I do nto go around asking people to thank me. I do not flaunt what I do for my family. I am just not like that. And I dont want to deal with someone who is. I never said thank you because frankly when my mom said say thnk you to me. I thought of how much of a horrible person she is (which she wasnt I agree) and I never said thank you. I cannot stand it. Why should I. If she considers me family and if she sees that I do stuff too that she doesnt appreciate.

HOW DARE SHE ASK ME TO SAY THANK YOU!!! HOW DARE SHE !!! what the hell am I. A guest. An animal. WHAT ? I do stuff to noone ever thanked me for that. WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I. Well we had a few fights on a few days due to this. And I stopped eating at home. Well now it isnt that much of an issue. But she still sometimes tells me to say thank you but I dont. Beacuse it is unfair. And I will not. I know I am being unreasonable but I cannot help it.

The Runaway … Part 5

I want a normal house. Ok we shifted a few months ago. Everything is not perfect. So we need to make a few changes. Ok. there is construction OK. But I want the house clean. There is dust everyfuckingwhere and on everyfuckingthing. DUST! DUST! DUST! Why the hell cant they leave the house clean. WHY the FUCK is it so FUCKING DUSTY. That is not the point. The point is that when I say it is dusty my mom says no there is no dust. I just completely fuicking burn up on this. completely fucking burn u up. Then I walk to ther nearest wooden furniture and swipe it (sghit i cant tyope peroperly) with my finger to show her the dust. Then she says well that is natural. I mean come on DUST. FUCKING DUST! She just completely fucking denies it. DENIES IT!!!! LIES TO MY FUCKING FACE !!!! just burns me the fuck up. I cannot stand dust. Then I am told on my face that there isnt any. I cannot live like that.

There is a concept of ‘Purdah’ in Pakistan. Even though I was an athiest before this post I think the purdah is a social obligation. So I asked the women in my family to put up curtains because when they dont people can see inside the house. Anyone can see inside the house from the street. And they never closed it. NEVER. I used to fight with them all the time and they didnt agree. They used to do that same funckgin thing here are well. Tey jsut use dt o say(i cannot even type rignt now … ill atak e a break then ill tyeep) they say nono … the curtains are drawn. Then I show them the open curtains. They are like oh sorry. SO WHAT AM I ? DO I SEEM LIKE A FUCKING LIAR! They never never never close the curtains properly. Now I am ready to promise that for the last one week everytime I look at those curtains they are always open.

THIS HAPPENS EVERY TIME. The food isnt good. Oh no it is. My bathroom doesnt have a strong enough gjet of water. No it does. The chicked isnt tender. Yes it is. The curtains arent closed. Yes they are. There is dust on the furniture. No there isnt. My bathroom isnt properly cleaned. Yes it is. My rooms floor isnt properly cleaned. Yes it is. WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I saw it and I commented. I am not a fucking liar. Why the hell wont you just listen to me. I cannot get along with someone who does this. Whenever I say someting they deny it without even checking. I hate this. I cannot get along like this. It drives me mad and I dont know what to do.

Look I can do this myself as well. But then they shouldnt say. We pay so and so to do this. Then dont fucking pay her. Tell me to do all this and I will do all this. But dont lie on my face and dont call me a liar.

The Runaway … Part 4

See I cannot get along with her for many reasons. We do not see eye to eye on anything. We can NEVER watch the same channel on tv. Because she watches Indian TV which I hate and I watch oldies which she hates. I cannot listen to my music as she thinks that I am supposed to listen to YOUNG tunes. Rock and Pop and Metal sortof dance techno hip hop unbeat stuff. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT! I never want I GET SO FUCKING IRRITATED when someone questions my music. LISTEN TO YOUR DAMNED MUSIC. LEAD YOUR OWN FUCKING LIFE AND LEAVE ME ALONE.


I mean they interfere in everything. What I wear everyone comments on it. What I listen to EVERYONE comments on it. I spend an exorbitant amount of time on the net. Granted. But everyone comments on that. What I eat everyone comments on that. I cannot live like this. People are supposed to behave themselves and not judge someone ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

The Runaway … Part 3

I talked to a few of my friends from college. I asked them all if they think that I am a horrible, rude and mean person. They said no. I asked them if I was like that at all. They said no. Well I wasnt a horrible person. But now I am. My sisters say that I am a horrible person. I went to hostels. They say that people become strange after going to hostels like me. They all think that I was always this horrible as I am being to them. I am not like that. This is only because of my relation with my mom. I do not want my sisters to grow up in such an atmosphere of tension. I dont want them to have a completely horrible childhood because I was an asshole. I dont want to fuck up my sisters life as mine already is. I hate this.

I would curse the day I was born. I would curse the fact that I am such a complete failure and a disappointment. I would curse that fact that I was engineered by God to hurt others a task that I seem to perform so well. I would curse being gay. Yes I would curse being gay because it has given me so much hurt. So fuckign much hurt. Life is not worth this. I would choose death over life if only there werent all these other lives linked to mine. I curse the fact that once we are born we cannot leave without hurting so many other. I curse the fact that I am a curse on my family.

I hate this. Here I am sitting in a cyber cafe. My family probably worried about me. That I left in a fight. And I am here. My one action has made me a complete failure and a complete loser in one moment. All in my life that was worth anythign was lost the moment I walked out of the door. I left it all. I left my house and I lost it all. Now I can neve sleep without remorse. But at that moment I was so angry. Her being the same person that she was. That irritaing tone that angry voice that she talks to me always with and never with motherly love. Always angry at me.

Well if you are always angry at someone. For even as long as two weeks it meand only one thing. You hate them. Yes my mother hates me. Not because of her. Because of me. I am worthy of her hatred. No mother would hate her child. I must have pushed her to this state.