My Sad Story

I cry over my father’s grave that I didn’t get to know. He died a few months after my birth. Had he been there, would he be able to solve all my problems? Sometimes when I can’t find any way to console myself, I beg him to come back and save me.

My mere identity has been a controversy. I have been through fights, violence, murder and all this has worsened my state. I remain alive but never stable. I have even thought of ending this once and for all but then I think of all the people attached to me and I give up on taking away their happy lives just by ending mine.

People say they love me but I wonder if they really do, or are they a bunch of hypocrites who will abandon me in this state if they get a better opportunity. I have seen hundreds of them fleeing away from me when they have exploited me to the fullest and they assure that they have sucked away all the money that they could.

And when people say they love me, for what reasons do they love me for? Cause I provide them great, famous dramas; or because my beauty mesmerize them? Had I really been that beautiful, would they still be shredding me apart? These are just hollow statements! If they truly loved me, they wouldn’t drift apart so easily! They would at least make a feeble attempt to save what is left of me.

People may get jealous to still see me alive. I am alive and will keep struggling for people who truly love me. For whom the reason to love me is only that I gave them identity and saved them from the atrocities they would have gone through if I wasn’t there.

People talk about my sorry state whenever they can but they avoid standing up for me. But then, I am Pakistan, the land of the pure and I will keep living for those true people who honestly love me and are fearless to prove it.