You are my home;

It’s the kind of sadness that causes your body to close in on itself. You cry for a while, but eventually you can’t even manage that anymore. You just stare at things in silence. Simply getting through the day is like trying to perform open heart surgery with a butter knife. The idea of leaving your house, or even your bed, cripples you. Your body is tense, and your muscles ache from being stuck in one position for so long. Some days you shower for hours, and other days you don’t shower at all. You’re all or nothing. Watching show after show to distract yourself from reality. Doing enough of the normal stuff for your family not to notice that you’re vacant, but you’ve lost enjoyment in everything. You’re simply trying to get by. You take it day by day, step by step, a sleepless night followed by sixteen hours of sleep straight. Remember, all or nothing. Do not romanticise me. Please don’t make this seem beautiful. There’s nothing beautiful about the ceiling I’ve been staring at for the last hour, mustering just about enough energy to put my thoughts in to words for the first time in weeks. There’s nothing beautiful about this.

I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it

Urdu lesson of the day: