A page from Lady Democracy’s Diary

Dear Diary,

I did it again. I am sick of making the same mistakes over and over again.

These people pretend to believe in me, fail miserably in their pretense and then a few of them have the audacity to blame me for their failures.

I am Democracy and I have nothing to do with Pakistan.

My “romance” with the people of Pakistan is not new and I have learnt from past mistakes. It has on more than one occasion tried to lure me in with tall claims and promises to abide by me, yet once purposes are served, I have always been thrown away like a used tissue. We have never been married, neither has there ever been a relationship that can be called steady.

I always fell for the pledges and promises, but with time I realized that those who know me don’t need me, and those who don’t know me, love me and believe they need me. I know now that the pretend love for me is owing to my popularity in the commoners and proletarians who don’t really know me that well, but love me nevertheless. It is this love and support which the elites want to benefit from. They want to channel it, through me, for their own gains.

These people, along with a few others, have hurt me. It hurts to know how they only like me for my appearance and are least interested in who I am and what I stand for. I have been used and abused so many times, it’s sickening. I am just a face that they use to attract the naive common folk. My relationship with Pakistan cannot be described as a marriage, an engagement or even a long term commitment. It can be best described as a one night stand, or several one night stands.

Every time I moved in, I was mainly forced to leave because of the maltreatment suffered by my children. My eldest sons, the twins; Rule. O. Law and Equality. B. Law were always completely ignored and malnourished. At times I felt as if they were hated and despised. They were bullied by Pakistan’s own eldest son; Feudalism, and Pakistan rarely snubbed him. In fact most of their confrontations, where Feud bullied my sons, resulted in the arm twisting of the Laws; my sons. Being the eldest and most pampered, Feud has a visible influence on all of his siblings and even on Pakistan.

The living conditions that I need to survive, and my children need to grow, have never been a priority. We have been kept in miserable conditions, undernourished and ignored. Today, in Pakistan, when I look at the mirror, I can’t recognize myself. I am now a mere distortion of my original self. I feel like a caged animal in the darkest depths of a dungeon. I am a victim of abuse, I suffer from depression and an identity crisis. I don’t know if I can take it anymore, and if it’s time for me to move out yet again.

For you, the commoners, I have nothing but love, as you have for me. My urge to nurture thrives for you as does for my own children. It is your love that makes me trust the liars and connivers again and again. Your love is why I bear as much as I can bear. But without my children, I can’t survive, and I can’t watch them breathe their last in front of my eyes. Their death would literally kill me.

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