Hope in the Hurt

A searing meditation on what it means to stay true in a world that punishes authenticity and rewards pretense

- Nowsheen Mushtaq

There comes a time in life when unexpressed feelings, misinterpreted actions, and hidden scars begin to weigh you down.

There is a struggle that is silent instead of loud. It plays out through muted nods and forced grins. I currently reside in that quiet place. I am bent, but not broken. I am perilously close.

Lately, I've found myself mentally exhausted by the emotional chaos that surrounds me. I can no longer endure the politics, the power plays, the whispers masquerading as conversations, and the masks people wear so effortlessly. It is tiresome walking into places where truth is uncomfortable and bluntness is labelled as insurgence.

My dichotomy makes me feel like a pendulum - collapsing and fighting, panicking and being patient, frustrated and faithful.

Each day, I find my patience eroding. I used to think of it as the anchor of my being. Now, it has outstripped all manners of optimism. I am enduring, but each passing day diminishes me.