The Confusing Diary of a Very Angry Meerab

The Two Paths

Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

( Robert Frost)

Dear Diary

My psychologist or psychiatrist, I honestly don't know what to call him, Dr. Wali was complicated. You all know how life had treated him and I think he deserved better. But I had an odd suspicion that he was living life vicariously through me. He seemed to enjoy retellings of my sordid life too much.

" You have had quite an eventful week, right Meerab?" He asked with his white teeth flashing at me.

Well, where do I begin.

They say that time behind bars is time to reflect. Time to see what you can change about your life. Dear diary, that is crap.

The 59 minutes I spent behind bars served as a time to get angry. To boil all that anger and repressed emotions at myself and at the world and just stew with it.

I'm so angry at him, at me, at the pixie witch who was hugging him, at myself for being weak, at the world. I just wish everything would explode. I can't think of enough bad things to call him.

I got a bit creative, so I began to experiment with his name.

Murtu (hehe- that one immediately removes all the swag he tries to put one. No one even slightly attractive was called Murtu..)

Khansohole (love it!) I gave myself a pat on the back for creativity.

At the same time, I avoided the hairy large woman next to me. She kept eyeing me, but I just glared ahead.

I'm not going to lie, I got very inventive during those 59 minutes.

Ways to kill Murtasim Khan:

Run him over with his Jeep

Cook him into Nihari and feed Ma Begum

Deliver him tied with a ribbon to Zubair Malik

I kept going. It made the time go faster, dreaming of his face filled with pain as these things happened.

"Was it because of a man?" The hairy woman asked.

I stiffened. Why was she talking to me? Why couldn't I have gotten a private cell? I heard about solitary confinement being a bad thing – that would so not be a bad thing.

I ignored her. I pretended to be deaf.

"Or a woman?" She was sneering.

Ugh, dear God, I HATE Murtasim.

"Excuse me?" I snapped.

"You heard me." She sucked on her teeth. Ugh.

I rolled my eyes. "A man. A boy. A bastard."

"All three in one?" She asked.

I nodded stiffly.

"They usually are. My man left me for a one legged woman who was his mother's age" she commiserated.

That's awful! I grimaced.

I looked over at her. Maybe the one-leg was waxed?

"Meerab Khan?" The guard came and I let out a loud breath. "You're out – no charges pressed."

No charges? I tried to kill a pixie witch cum orphan.

I blinked at him, confused as hell, as they lead me away to get my belongings.

After I argued with the man that handed me my things (because they had totally scratched my new purse), I stepped outside to find The Khansohole lounging outside his limo. He stared at me as he attempted to not be amused.