In past entries, I have made some allusions to my past self. I have talked about how I liked cats better than people and how it is hard to shake off that hatred for humanity I once had.
I wondered recently what it might have been like should I have stayed the way that I was years ago. I decided that today I would try to write from that Khadeja's point of view; the Khadeja that was so angry and upset and unable to deal with human interaction without beating herself up or getting angry inside. I will try my absolute best to display what I think she might be experiencing were she in my place today.
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I'm am one of the lost. I have no idea what to do. I've been listening to the soundtrack of How to Train Your Dragon for days now, and nothing else. That movie really understands me. I know what it's like, not being up to everyone's standards. I just wish I could have told Hiccup that you don't need to be what your Dad or what your town wants you to be. I never want to become what everyone else desires! They don't know anything about my or what is inside my head. They can't tell me what to do and I will never let them.
They don't understand that I have dreams that are mine and I don't really feel like telling them. Why the hell should they know? Just because they are family? That's no excuse. I don't give a shit about family. Friends are the people who are really important. They are the ones who are closer to understanding. I get to choose who my friends are and that is the way it should be. But sometimes I think my own friends don't know. They can't even tell what is going on with me half the time. I don't want to have to tell them myself. If they really wanna know about me and what is happening, they had better ask. I shouldn't have to tell them. It's written on my face.
Right now, they should know that I am sitting in this shithole of a place, worrying about what to do next. There is just NOTHING here for me! Why did my parents force me to come here? I can't believe how selfish they are. I couldn't even stay in the US during the summer. Don't they understand that I hate it here? I have no friends, and I am in a totally different time zone so I can't even talk to the people I really care about. Don't they get it? I hate it! Get me out of here, God, if you have any tiny bit of love left in you.
God must have looked at me at birth and thought, "What a fucked up kid." If he is really merciful, he'd have followed that statement with "I hope she ends up okay." These days I think he followed it with "Too bad!" or "How fucking hilarious." That's what I think I am - a stupid, scary joke created by a merciless God. I got my undergrad degree now, but who gives a shit? I don't even know what the hell I want. He made me so didn't he do this to me? There is nothing left for me now, so isn't it his fault? But if he doesn't exist - and he probably doesn't because God is supposed to be watching over you and caring about you and helping you if you have done nothing wrong - then whose fault is it? Probably my parents. Or maybe it's just me.
I did all of this to myself, didn't I? I can't blame it on God or my parents. I can't blame it on other family members or friends. This is all because of me. I don't have anything to look forward to for the rest of my life because of me.
Okay so I might have a place to live, but will I even like Cambridge? I've never even been to Massachusetts in my whole life. What if I hate it there like I hated everywhere else? I've never been to a country I like. Except for Hungary and the Czech Republic, those places were amazing. Then again, I was with some amazing people at the time who actually made me feel good. I would do anything to be back there. I hate Saudi, and I hate Mauritius, and I bet I'll be going back here or there for the rest of my life the way things are going. I am so trapped. I have screwed up my own life beyond belief. No one likes me. I think my friends can't stand me. I don't have anybody who understands.
I know I am 21 and I should really grow up but sometimes I wish that I had a Hiccup in my life, somebody who really gets what I am going through. I don't have anybody. When I try to tell people that something is wrong with me, they tell me that I am just doing this to myself, or they yell at me. Yeah, I remember when I got yelled at because I told the school counsellor. Who else was I supposed to tell? I don't have anyone else!
I tried to help myself but nothing is going away. Should I really go to Massachusetts? Should I stay in Saudi, where I will just rot to death? I don't think I could make it here. I think I'd rather die. I don't care if I go back to the God who thinks I am a joke, who created me with absolutely no happiness, who left me all alone with this family and all these people who don't know me at all. How could he do this to me? What kind of an asshole is this God?
What can I even do with my life? I know how to be a bitch to people, but that's it. Maybe I should be a police officer. Maybe I should work for an SPCA somewhere and kick the asses of people who hurt their animals. And fuck, I'd do it too. I'd probably go to jail for hurting another human being, but they all deserve it. You fuck with an animal and I find out about it, and you fuck with me. Sometimes I think I should have been a vet but I think it is way too late now. I'm not smart enough either. I'm a dumb shit with a crappy GPA, crappier than I could really obtain, because I fucked college up so much. It's not my brain, it's just me. I could have done better. Why didn't I do better?
I can't believe I did all of this. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't have any reason to be like this. Why can't anyone see what is happening to me? I am turning into a monster. No one else is like me; everyone else has a future and a path to walk on. Why do I feel like I am pushing through thorns?
I have no future. I have no hope. I should just die.
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I know it all seems very dramatic and over-the-top...but that is how I was. I didn't really act melodramatic in person, but in my head was a theatre with acts comparable to Greek tragedy. It was full of pain, and angst, and overall sadness. I felt for so many years like I had nothing to offer anyone.
Am I the same? No. Instead of feeling sad, I feel scared a lot of the time. I think that has been better for me. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I am scared for my future so I want to act on it. My life has taken on the raw decision of fight vs. flight - my stimuli make me want to fight against the odds, or run away. Is that really better? I think it might be. It is taking me a while to get used to, though.
That Khadeja was so depressed she couldn't see the light at all. She had friends who truly loved and cared about her. When she broke down and felt her worst, her friends would have been there to help her if she gave them a chance. Her parents also loved her and wanted what was best for her the whole time. And no matter how stupid she felt, she actually got into all the universities she applied to for her undergraduate degree. She even got into the University she wanted for her graduate school diploma. Even then, she still felt incapable of taking her own life into her hands. Instead of excitement for a new life, she felt the burden of new responsibilities.
I cannot lie to you and tell you it is all over now and that I am all better. However, even these two weeks in Riyadh have made me understand that although I have important decisions to make, I can relax and I can stop worrying and finally that I can deal with all of this. My education in upstate NY taught me a lot and I gained a foundation of experiences and knowledge that I can genuinely use. No matter what I say, I did not get a useless undergraduate degree. However, it could not teach me everything about myself. That is for me to do, not for an educational institution.
Riyadh is a desert, but it is also a deserted place. Maybe I need to have this open, empty desert to myself to look inside my heart and see what it is I truly desire. Only then can I really make these life-changing decisions.
If in the middle of the desert, I am without company, food, or water, who do I talk to in this drunken state of delirium? Myself. Finally, under the burning sun and sand-filled air will I be able to ask myself the most important questions, which will then bring forth all of the essential answers.
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