Hi, I’m Human.
Born in 1992 to a Pakistani family and lived in two generations. I’m 23 and not considered a child anymore; my opinions now matter, my conversations listened, I’m seen, because I’m an adult and, I’m expected to behave like one.
From being a people’s person I became a loner – those worldly terms, however, give less explanation to the state so I’d rather sit and define. I’ve always been a talker, my life revolved around books and toys and conversations over them, as long as my memory goes, I’ve always wanted to have people around and communicate with them. My childhood pictures and videos do not suggest otherwise, how amusing it was for me and for them, noises a 6 months old made that didn’t make any sense, voices that weren’t really vocal. 23 years have passed and it’s still amusing, for them. Because even today, what I say doesn’t make any sense to them.
Individuality is all the rage of my era, but only conveniently. We point out the flaws, the minorities, the unacceptable and pretend to accept it. Everything against our social standards and set cultures is a crime that may not be penalized but critically frowned upon, and unless you’re as lucky as an inmate that gets to go after they’ve served their time, the public disapproval is something you carry forever.
For some reason that I’m never able to articulate, I’ve always been the ugly duckling, the odd one out, the bone in the meat. I don’t know why but I never walked with the flow, not always I did it purposely, not always I enjoyed it, but that was it, I wasn’t some good to categorize but a person that simply cannot be typed under ‘A’ or ‘B’. We live in a world where everyone is expected to be able to box, like the MBTI personality type. We talk about personality and individuality on one end and put billions of people under 16 types on the other, we must have a seriously messed up mind to believe all that!
I’ve tried so hard to fit in, to make myself part of the world and the most, I tried to make sense, tried till I realized how much effort and how much life I’m spending on a worthless thing. The world has very fewer humans left, and not everyone around me qualifies. C’mon lets look around, a school got attacked in Pakistan during the day, a human with a heart can never do such a thing. Mosques in Canada and America were burnt down, anyone with a soul shall never think of such a thing, families were burned and millions killed in Gaza and Syria, again nothing with humanity inside them can do such a thing. We’re people of the modern age, geeks, tech-savvy and modern consumers, people of less faith and more matter, humanity is washed out of most of us. So the day I realized was the day I stopped trying. The only time I gave up, the only time I lost and felt so happy about it.
I read books and love studying but why does that make you believe I must be good at school? If I’m smart and well-read, I can still flunk my classes and it doesn’t have to make any sense. I never felt attracted to anyone sexually till I was 20, why is that so hard to believe that you’re convinced I must be lying. I don’t agree that looking and feeling good has anything to do with weight, I never felt bad until people constantly reminded me of how it makes me look hideous. I’m caring and mature but I get excited like a two-year-old on about anything with colors or sparkles, why does it sound so confusing to you?
I was so constantly rejected for being different. My food preferences and dress preferences were different, my choices and habits were different, my reaction and actions were different, I wasn’t easily predictable so I was different. From being talkative I went to mute, so much that I was called rude. Blamed of suddenly acquiring attitude because maybe I feel highly of myself, maybe I feel ashamed of myself. I cut myself from the world and found solitude, what they called loneliness became my fulfillment.
I don’t feel like life is short or that time is running out. My days are numbered but I live them as I may. My work and productivity aren’t measured by any of their standards but mine, every day is new and every day is better. To save myself and them, I picked a side we’d both like, I’m me for myself and theirs in their time.
They named me Bipolar.
I called myself Human.