" Free & independent"

Hello world,

In this goddamn life, we all find ourselves tangled in some kind of mess, don't we? I'm no exception. I'm writing this letter as a testament to the chaos that's been my existence, my dreams, and my godforsaken hopes. Years ago, I hopped on the first train out of that shithole of a small town, chasing dreams bigger than the place itself. I longed to rub shoulders with the greats, to soak up the city of Literature & history, to. Write my heart out, make some noise, and perform like a madman. Hell, all I wanted was a taste of freedom and independence. Money never meant a damn thing to me; I was after something more – inspiration, meaning, purpose. pilgrimage of sorts, one driven by my passion. Like many before me, I was drawn to the bright lights of the city, seeking inspiration and yearning for a sense of independence. But the city, Lahore, that metropolitan monster, it changed and changed me, Its not like one that existed in my dreams and old books, I read from my mother's library. Greed and decay had seeped into its core, leaving it a hollow, rotting shell of its former self, I was stuck right in the middle of thi cesspool. Despite the years, I never fit in, always feeling like an outsider. I'm still that small-town boy, missing the old ways, the lost friends, and that feeling of home. People here, they're selfish bastards, caring more about their weekend plans than the souls around them. It's sickening

A couple of years back, life dealt me a nasty hand. Violence and brutality tore into me, leaving me with PTSD and a heart that's seen better days. Now, every damn day is a fight to find some peace, some reason to keep going. Creativity, my old friend, has abandoned me. I used to write songs, make music, create something from nothing. But now, it's a struggle.

My partner, bless her heart, tries to get me out of this funk, but the anxiety is suffocating. I feel alone, like I'm screaming into a void. But, I'll be damned if I'm giving up. So here I am, writing this letter, pouring my heart out. I want to go back home, but I know that the place I long for isn't a matter of distance, but time. I'm scared, terrified of going back and finding nothing but heartbreak, but I'll keep fighting to rediscover myself. Thanks for reading this mess of a letter. I hope you hear me, understand me, and maybe, together, we can find some kind of peace and healing.

Yours in the struggle,

Arham