Dear Diary | Teen Ink

Dear Diary

October 17, 2015
By HafsaAhmed PLATINUM, Karachi, Other
HafsaAhmed PLATINUM, Karachi, Other
22 articles 2 photos 29 comments

Favorite Quote:
I don't believe in angry arguments , I believe in silent revenge.

Revenge doesn't merely means hurting others, it sometimes mean being a better person than you were yesterday.

   September 17th 1975

Today I found something.. something in my heart. It's new and exciting!! I am so happy!! I really want to do this. I'll do this when I get older.I'll tell mamma papa

about it. They will be so proud! I'm already so excited!!



  August 10th 1976

I celebrated my 12th birthday yesterday. It was so fun. Auntie gave me a doctor doll with long hair. She said I'll be one when I get older but I already said NO! I wonder why mama shook off my arms after dragging me to the corner. She scolded me for misbehaving. I thought it was okay to say NO.. PROuDLY!



 September 2nd 1978

It's hard to believe how time flies. I thought I'd be able to achieve half of my dream by now but It's ok! I'm just a 14. I'm working on the assignment my teacher gave me two days ago. She'll definitely like it as soon as she gets to know who I wanna be when I grow up! Can't wait to hear her compliments. Perhaps that's what someone with a passionate dream might think. I might not be the only pshycho as the kids in my school call me. I wonder what they whisper when I pass by.



 October 9th 1981

I can't see my mother that way. She never lets me know what's killing her inside. Why doesn't she speak for herself? If I hadn't woken up to see her eyes swollen and her cheeks wet with tears, I wouldn't have known they had come. They always come when they are least wanted. Sometimes you catch yourself thinking "Money is really something" and when you eat the meals you've always disliked, both for lunch and dinner and when you don't eat at all, you quitely go to your bed with your stomach growling, tears flowing down your cheeks, that's when  you think " Money is everything".



  NOvember 10th 1983

They came again. This time they stormed into our house and left with a warning. The last warning! The way I see it, it's the price of loving someone worth loving. It's the price of fearing their loss and doing everything possible to let them live with the ones they love. It's actually the price of borrowing money for the hospital fees of my father and unfortuntely never paying back. I can't forget the day of september 3rd 1978. The day I got highest marks and couldn't wait to tell my mom and dad but all I could see was a cold hospital, the ambulance, the accident and them.  'Them' whom we asked for money and for the one who couldn't even live to help us pay it back. They were his family, his siblings, my aunt and uncle! But then I think.. Was the money really worth it? The money that gave nothing but cost everything.

      I'm sitting on the table right now watching mother facing the stove, fying an egg. Tomorrow will be the first day of my college. I've won the scholarship for undergraduate programme. I might have a successful future. I'll have money..something we've been longing for so long. Perhaps there is nothing to regret but when I look back, It feels like I'm abandoning something, something trapped inside my heart, tangled for staying there forever. It feels like it can't breathe, can't escape.

Sometimes it tries to protest and makes it's way to my throat but I send it down in exchange of tears!


  September 14th 1989

   I've got everything now. Money, A mother who smiles everytime she glances at her daughter. I can buy her medicines, new clothes and dinner of her choice. No, they

don't storm into our house anymore. They don't shout or yell but sit and talk. I don't stand near them with my head held down having fear and shame in my eyes. I sit with them with the proud smile they never wanted to see. When they leave I spend time with my mother chatting with her on her bed but who knows what I do after turning off the light and leaving her room? She might've never noticed where I go every night and what I cry for for hours sitting in my library, reading my old diary. She'll never know that I was a murderer and that I abandoned my heart. Only my mirror, hung on the old walls of my room, knows that I look terrible every night.



  August 9th 2015

  I dislike hospital smells. I hate it since September 3rd 1978. I'm kept in doctors' care. My Son visited me with his wife and told me it's my birthday today. Kids these days really care about little things but I know he's upset ever since the doctor told him that I'm dying. He doesn't know that I know. I've grown weak and it is hard for me to write but I told him to bring my old diary along with him. He's such a nice boy. He did bring it back but he's outside. He said he'll come back soon. My

hand is trembling right now. I'm sweating, I think it's time but I have to say something.. Something that will stay with me forever. Dear diary, When I pass away, let them know what I had always cried for. Dear diary, let them know " I once had a dream".


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