Last night as I was cleaning out my landfill of a room, I found my collection of old cards and letters from years gone by, letters, actual paper letters, in envelopes and everything. At least once every year I go through them wondering whether this time I should finally throw them out. After all, many are simply reminders of people who just disappointed me in the end. Surprisingly, it’s always been family that disappointed me the most, never really friends, sure I’ve lost touch with friends and all that, but that’s always been a 2 way street, sort of a simple falling out or a parting of ways. But I’ve always tried to invest so much in family, trusted them, believed in them, and loved them in the hope that they have to feel the same way because we share the same DNA. But it doesn’t really work that way. I guess all relationships are harder than that, even those made by blood. Ties break, trust fails, honesty is lost and people leave. I have written proof of the bonds we had, but with every line I read, all I can ask myself in how things can change so fast? I wonder whether they even remember what it used to be like, whether they even remember me? I’ve never been good at dealing with broken relationships, I’ve never been able to let go and forget. It’s like the 2 ends of a string, they let go of their end ages ago, but I’m still holding on to mine, trying to figure out where it went wrong, what I could have done to make it right, wanting them to love me like I loved them. Does that make me needy, desperate, dependant? Yeah, probably, but knowing it still doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how I feel, it doesn’t change what I expect from the people around me, all I wish is that I knew what they expected of me.
Maybe that’s why I’m so attached to Karachi, over all these years, it’s the only relationship that hasn’t change, it’s still familiar and comforting and always there. I know I can always come home to Karachi, and it’ll always accept me.
