I lived an exciting life at the University of Glasgow during my years there. Still, today life is just an endless nightmare. Despite the blessings greater than those of a usual Pakistani girl, there is still something tragically sad about my life. Everything about my life except the happiness is complete. I'm young, rich, and famous, and I can even afford the best medical treatment.
Still, I remain depressed all the time, and now I persistently have recurring thoughts of suicide. During my final year at the University of Glasgow, I researched 'suicide and excessively self-critical behavior.' I found that some institutions are equipped to deal with the cases of suicide assistance, an absolutely stunning finding. I was unsure if that type of thing was even possible. I recall discussing it with my friend Emma;
"Who in the world does assisted suicide?" It's surprising.
"That is, if you want to die, why would you seek assisted suicide? It's like ending someone's life with their own hand." I said, almost laughing as we talked about our project in UOG. Emma Chuckled too, but then an awkward silence fell between us. Clearly, we should not joke about assisted suicide, I thought. Anyway, where are my manners? Did I get around to telling you my name?
My name is Aneeqa Haider, and this is my story.
***
Emma"
"Look at me! Where were you all this time? And now you are sitting here almost weeping." I said as I tried to talk to my best friend after three weeks.
I was away to see my father, who lives in London, and on my return, I visited Aneeqa and found her upset with an old diary. I was distraught to see her in such despair, so I sat with her and tried to console her. But nothing I said was helping. Our differences made it impossible for us to be typical best friends. We were truly unique.
"Emm, I know I'm not always the best at sharing, but I'm still working on it." Aneeqa, still by the window, replied to my query without any gusto.
It was quite unlike her, so I just kept looking at her. After having a relaxed look at me, Aneeqa gazed out the window and then began speaking as if she was talking with her eyes. "You realize why I've been here for months, don't you, Emm? Even though I miss home and my father, I am still here months later from UOG (University of Glasgow)."
"To expand your writing knowledge, it is crucial to pursue your ambition of becoming a famous writer. Furthermore, you are so driven and determined that you put your emotions and all of the weak stuff aside," I explained. Over the years, I had crammed her words and goals like a parrot.
"No way!" she chuckled.
"That's exactly the situation in which I find myself lying and betraying you, as I have done with so many others," she continued.
"All right, fine... then why are you staying here?" Puzzled, I said, "Why?" as I took the worn-out diary from her hands and put it away.
"I don't want to see my father," she mumbled."He's been helping me out all my life. He's been an incredibly massive help to me." She added a bit more clearly.
"It's not a big deal; every father does it... Except for a few like mine," I lamented.
"Emm, please don't interrupt me today," she exclaimed.
"Sorry about that! I couldn't stop... Please carry on." I replied, apologizing for the interruption.
"I'm afraid he will ask me for things I cannot deliver," Aneeqa concluded. "You're right Emm, every father does that for his kids, but not..." she said, rising from the couch. She hesitated and took a more extended break. Words seemed to become entangled within her, and she appeared to lose all courage to speak.
"But?" I repeated her words. A lone tear accompanied her words, "But not every stepfather does it."