cor ad cor loquitur

where heart speaks to heart

I can’t breathe — July 10, 2017

I can’t breathe

Tere bina jeena nahi ve soniya. That’s what I used to sing when “we” was a possibility.

Tere sang suki roti bhaaye. I also used to sing this because if “we” could exist I would be fine with whatever so long as we was a possibility.

Bole zamana yun mai teri jaisi hoon, tu bhi toh mujhsa dikh zaara. Another song I used to sing, thinking you were there with, imagining that you would respond: mera hi saaya tu hai, mujh me samaya tu hai, har pal yai lagta hai mujhe.

I wanted us to have conversations about everything and anything in this world. But you never gave me the chance. For once in my life, I was willing to take the risk and give up everything because that’s how much I truly loved you. Life has a way of playing games, but the biggest game was played by you.

I keep saying I’m over it. I keep saying I don’t care, but the truth is I care so much. It hurts everyday. Everyday I think about what could have been, but you never let that happen. The worst part of it all was you never gave a reason.

Now, when I try to move on, that still hurts. Because every time it’s a negative, I automatically think there’s something wrong with me. There has to be something wrong with me. The one I loved left and now all the others are leaving also. There can’t be a problem with the others, it has to be a problem with me.

The anger and frustration builds inside me, but so does the sadness. The sadness takes over and suffocates me. I want to scream in anger at you and everyone who does this, but I keep believing something’s wrong with me so I continue my self-destruction.

I just wish it would all end. I bet you didn’t think that such a simple thing would cause me so much pain. Well, it does, but what do you care. You are there in your corner of the world, smiling with that beautiful girl. You probably don’t even realize how much you destroyed me.

And so now, I continue writing about you and the hurt and anger you caused in hopes that maybe I will get over it and move on. But life is so funny. It has a way of playing games with you. Something happens, someone hurts me yet again, and I think back to you and what could have been only to be reminded that you are the greatest culprit.

A tale of two emotions — May 11, 2017

A tale of two emotions

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times. I honestly wanted to write a happier blog post today. I’m finally done with finals and studying forever (with the exception of my licensing exam). Tomorrow, we’re going to learn how to administer shots–a daunting task for someone who’s afraid of needles. Then, rotations start after Memorial Day, and I’ll be in a world surrounding by attractive healthcare professionals. I have reconciled friendships with so many lost friends. I genuinely enjoy my life right now. I feel amazing and look skinny. Just in general, this is the first time I have ever felt comfortable about my body and appearance. BUT THEN…

I am 90% sure I was in love with this boy. I met him at a wedding (had met him at other events before) and just absolutely fell in love with him. He was mom-approved and dad-approved. The process had kind of started until he/his family said no. Do you know what that does to a girl who already has low self-esteem? It fucking kills her from the inside. The second I found out it was a resounding no, I cried straight for 3 hours. …But I held onto hope.

Then last year, in May, two days after my birthday, I found out he’s engaged. More crying, more devastation, more sadness, more low self-esteem. But stupid me held onto hope. Today, I find out he is now married. The good thing is I’m not as devastated as I could have been. But there was always a part of me that thought maybe all of these are obstacles and something good may come of it.

When people ask me to describe my ideal man, he is the one I describe because he was ideal in every way possible. He was the sweetest, most respectful guy I knew. And now I think was I in love with him or just the idea of him? After all, he was my ideal guy, but the most we ever said to each other was salam and have a good day.

People go through worse than this. They go through devastating break-ups, they’re cheated on, etc etc. But to me, a sheltered Pakistani, Muslim girl, this was the most devastating thing ever. I had never felt so depressed in my entire life. I’m glad my happiness is helping overshadow my pain. I’m glad I had a heart-to-heart with one of my good friends today, but now I’m also afraid that every single romantic prospect in my life will be compared to him. And no one will ever be better than him.

What is friendship really? — March 28, 2017

What is friendship really?

You guys know by now that I like to write these posts whenever I’m feeling down or depressed, so naturally that’s exactly how I feel right now and need a way to gather my thoughts and potentially hope that someone out there will read it. I was thinking about doing a review on those Foot Peeling Masks from Amazon. I bought one, wore it for an hour, and am currently waiting for my skin to start feeling. But I completely forgot to take before and after pictures so there’s that. Since my feet didn’t start peeling yet I still have time, so I might do a review on that soon stay tuned. Okay, now for my venting, which I hope entertains you guys or provides some perspective.

For the record, I don’t necessarily consider myself a lonely person. There are friends in my life, but I certainly expect more from friends. Something I’ve been thinking about: dosti sub ko karni ati hai, magar nibhani bohat kam logon ko ati hai. I think that sounds so much better in Urdu. But if anyone wants a rough translation: everyone knows how to form frienships, but not everyone knows how to maintain them. What I’m getting at is that people have emotional needs to which they look towards the loved ones in their lives- friends, family, and significant others. Alhamdulillah, I am so blessed to have wonderful parents who support and guide me every step of the way. But sometimes the love and support provided by parents is not enough. I have always maintained that no matter how close you are to your parents, there are some things that you simply cannot talk about with your parents. There are some things that require the guidance of friends.

I honestly don’t know if I’ve had a lot of things going on in my life or if I’m just overreacting. Honestly, it could be either one. My dad had two cataract eye surgeries, my mom is really trying her best to stay positive through everything going on with her (it is not my place to discuss her problems), my life might change drastically, learning about cancer in class has made me concerned about my family’s health, my cousin had a baby: all of these I want to talk to someone about, but who? To be very fucking honest, no one seems to act like they care. It especially hurts since I am the one everyone comes to when they need someone to talk to or vent. Maybe I’m just not trusting them enough with my secrets, or maybe they don’t care.

College for me was going to be a chance to reinvent myself, and it was, don’t get me wrong. But it was also a chance for me to find friends who would definitely be there for me, not just to listen, but to respond, provide advice, just to be there emotionally. A lot of the emotions I feel stem from my Pakistani background and the cultural norms surrounding it. I am expected to be engaged, then married, then have kids, and while all of these are things I want in life, I also want love and romance. If I feel concerned for a parents health, I want to be able to call up a friend and just cry to her about my concern. I don’t want to see a goddamn check or “read.”

Not all friends are like this, but definitely the friends I count on to be there especially since I’m always open to their venting/rantings could at least try to be there for me. Like I said maybe, it’s the way I think. I tend to be very pessimistic and distrustful of people when it comes to relationships and friendships, but that’s because I have been hurt in the past and it’s just something that I have never fully recovered from.

I have just been feeling so down and abandoned by so called friends. I reached my breaking point the other day and just started bawling my eyes out and sobbing in the study room. There were so many people around, but I just could not stop crying. Then when I went home, I just cried some more to my mom. Of course, this was precipitated by something, and its something that I don’t feel comfortable sharing.

Maybe in the next year after I graduate, I need to move away from everyone and start a new life, fresh, away from all old so called friends. I just need to find new friends, but that’s not the easiest thing when you’re socially awkward.

Blackhead Peel Off Mask Review — January 6, 2017

Blackhead Peel Off Mask Review

Hi everyone, it’s been a while and once again, I apologize. I’m in my final stretch of school currently, with my last semester of didactic learning and one year of rotations left. May 2018, I AM READY FOR YOU!! Anyways, I wanted to review this blackhead removing mask I ordered from Amazon a few days ago. I got it in the mail today and decided to give it a shot. I wanted to get back into reviewing beauty products for you all while also writing my usual blog posts. I decided against having a separate blog dedicated to beauty and lifestyle. Ok, so no more rambling, let’s get into the review.

I’ve seen so many videos on YouTube of people either creating their own charcoal mask with glue and activated charcoal or using a variety of pre-made masks to get rid of those nasty blackheads. I had tried the glue and charcoal mask years ago and it never worked for me, but I decided to give the “store” bought masks a go. I originally wanted to try the Hell Pore Clean Up mask, but because I’m cheap (lol) I decided to go with this mask.

First Impressions:

  • The bottle is really small compared to the Hell Pore Clean Up mask. You can see in the comparison picture that it is about the size of a pair of glasses in terms of length.
  • The reviews on Amazon said there were no English instructions, but the box has English, Chinese, and Korean instructions.
  • The smell is interesting. It’s not a terrible smell to me by any means. It kind of smells like the different hair products a hair dresser uses on you.
  • It’s very thin. It was sliding off my finger while I prepared my camera to take a picture which is why that picture will appear a little blurry.


  • Application of the mask is easy. I recommend using a brush to get a more even application, though this time I used my finger.
  • I used this on my brother as well (haha), and though I avoided the eye area, he said it kind of burned his eyes and they started watering.
  • For me, once you apply it the smell became overbearing, though like I said, it’s not a terrible smell by any means. (side note: my mom saw me and she’s like “Kya kai lagai hai tumne?” translation: did you put on muck/mold? LMAO)
  • It takes about 45-50 minutes to dry completely.


  • OH MY GOD WAS IT PAINFUL! I have a lot of peach fuzz on my cheeks, and while I avoided applying this to my sideburn area (Thank you Pakistani genes for sideburns that make any man envious), it still tugged at that tiny peach fuzz. It took my 20 minutes to remove because I had to keep taking breaks to calm down my face. The areas with peach fuzz were red and extremely sensitive once I pulled everything off.
  • It doesn’t hurt to pull off the mask if you only apply it to your T-zone area (nose and forehead).
  • If you have a lot of peach fuzz like me, I don’t recommend applying the mask all over your face. It hurts like a bish.


  • My skin definitely looked a lot clearer. I was experiencing slightly oily skin around my forehead and nose, so this definitely helped with that. It removed some blackheads, but honestly not too many for me to think this is a holy grail product. I have read that you need to apply a really thick layer in order for it to properly remove blackheads.
  • On my brother, it had removed a lot of gunk from his pores and his nose area seemed much more cleaner compared to mines. He’s not much into skin care, so his skin has significantly more problems than my skin.
  • I had a few bumps (maybe pre-acne, I’m not really sure what they are) on my forehead that were noticeable less visible after removing the mask.
  • My skin felt so soft and tight after this. I’m young, so I don’t need a tightening mask (yet), but I still like it when my skin feels more taut and clean after applying a mask.
  • I had to wash my face with cold water and apply ice to calm down the areas where it pulled peach fuzz.
  • WARNING PICTURES AHEAD! You can see for yourself how much dirt was on the peeled off mask.


  • Did this mask work? Kind of
  • Will I be doing this again? Yes, but only once every 2 weeks only on the T-zone area this time.
  • Would you buy it again? No. I would want to try the Hell Pore Clean Up mask next once I run out of this.
  • Rating: 3/5

There you guys go. I hope you all enjoyed this review. I did take before and after pictures of my nose and face, but they were not clear and I don’t feel entirely comfortable sharing my face with you guys yet. I want to maintain some privacy, hopefully you all understand. Let me know what else you want me to review!

#NotMyPresident: Donald Trump’s Terrifying America — November 10, 2016

#NotMyPresident: Donald Trump’s Terrifying America

Side note: sorry for not blogging much lately. I’m not abandoning this blog, but just cutting back from how often I want to blog. In terms of quality, I think it’s better to write when I particularly feel passionate about an event or topic. Maintaining a blog schedule does not result in quality writing, and I’m honestly not proud of any of those blog posts I’ve written. Okay, so now let’s talk about the elephant in the room (or rather the title).

By now we are all familiar with the results of the election and the man who is now our President-Elect. We are all familiar with the protests conducted all across the country as a result of the election results. We are all (hopefully) familiar with the hate crimes that started as a result of the election.

As a Muslim-American woman (and obviously a POC), I am terrified, but I’m not terrified because of Donald Trump. Rather, I’m terrified because the racist, white supremacist rhetoric that has unfolded as a result of his candidacy and now election. Let’s be clear, I’m only 22 years old (so I’m young, but I’m not naive by any means). I never wanted to admit it, but the second he was selected as the Republican nominee for president, I knew that racism had not gone away. The Civil Rights Movement of the 60s would be resurrected, except this time, it wouldn’t include just Blacks, it would include Muslims, Latinx, LGBTQ, and women. White supremacy never died, it was just buried under ground waiting for someone to unearth this.

My father, a Muslim Pakistani-American, had experienced racism long before Trump was elected. Do you know what it was fueled by? Trump’s campaign. He was given a Bible by one of his coworkers who told him to consider conversion to Christianity because Islam does not preach peace. Islam is a backwards religion, according to his coworker. His coworkers subtly hinted at white supremacy by ganging up against him and trying to get him to quit. They made his life a living hell, to the point where he experienced his first episode of depression.

But this was all long before Trump’s election, now that he is elected, I fear for my father. Not just because of the financial aspects that result from losing a job, but because this is the America he worked so hard to come to. This is the America that caused him to leave his entire family in Pakistan and come to in order to provide better prospects for his children. So while it is easy to joke about booking a one way flight to the motherland or Canada, it leaves you wondering– what was the point of my parents’ sacrifice?

We leave our countries to come to America, the land of freedom and liberty. A land where we are free to practice our religion and free to maintain our traditions. I can wear what I want and not be taunted by every one around me. This freedom was not present in Pakistan. But now, it seems that the country my parents wanted to come to has let them down. Freedom is simply a catchphrase for America, but is that what the general population truly stands for?

Since when did America become a largely become an evangelical entity? The answer is, it’s always been. Trump’s election has just unearthed this ideaology, and like many other minorities, I am terrified. Does this mean it will now be okay to burn POC’s houses, steal their cars, physically assault them on the streets, and hurl racist insults at them? I want to say no, but the truth is I’m not sure. A day after the election, hate crimes have surged. Hate crimes against women, against Muslims, against Blacks, against Hispanics. If this is what will continue for the next four years, then this is not the great America my parents sacrificed their happiness for.

People have said the election will not affect anyone, but they are privileged. If you are not genuinely terrified about what will happen to your family, what will happen to you, then you are privileged. Privilege is such a nice place to be right now. Just because we’re in 2016, it does not mean the world is perfect. It’s still racist, sexist, and homophobic– and that is a scary place to be.

I’ve written a lot, and if I continue, I think the message I want to get a strong won’t be as impactful. I do want to say that maybe Trump won’t be as bad as a president. Maybe he just utilized racist and misogynistic rhetoric to get votes. What I do know is that we have unearthed something terrifying, and we need to be strong and support each other. If Trump stands for everything he mentioned on his campaign, then I’m sorry, but he’s #NotMyPresident.

New beauty and lifestyle blog — August 10, 2016

New beauty and lifestyle blog

Hi everyone,

I am so sorry for not being able to blog properly the past couple of weeks/months. Blogging started off as a way for me to vent, and then as I got older I realized that sometimes such personal things do not need to be shared on a personal platform.

I will try my best to keep this blog active, but I am finally following my passion for beauty and lifestyle and starting a new blog! In case you missed that link: here’s my new blog! Please follow it if you are interested in beauty, lifestyle, and fashion. It’s still under construction and I am working the graphics and all the fun technical stuff, but I’m so glad to have taken a risk and starting something I was so scared to start.

Leave it some love please! (Share the link, spread the love :D)

I’m not the person I used to be — June 5, 2016

I’m not the person I used to be

Okay, so the title is a little bit misleading, but it’s true, I’m not the person I used to be. And I don’t necessarily mean that in the personality or physical appearance sense, I mean that in terms of my adventurous side.

Yesterday (was a wonderful day, alhamdulillah), I went to Six Flags with a few of my friends from college. It was wonderful. Most of us had sort of drifted apart this past school year for certain reasons (which I might make a blog post about soon, but maybe not), and it just felt nice to reconnect with them and talk about things that were not school related. There was still some awkward tension between us because we’d drifted apart a lot during the school year, but I think it was one of the best days for our friendship because we hung out outside of school for the first time doing something fun. Anyway, that’s not really what this blog post is about lol. Somehow I always end up going on tangents.

When we got there, I realized that the amount of anxiety I have for roller coasters in general just sort of increased over the few years. Last time, I went to Six Flags was in eight grade, when I was a mere 13 years old. While I was still scared of coasters like Kingda Ka and Superman, I still managed to go on coasters like Nitro and El Toro. These two coasters are still pretty huge (as in more than 100 ft tall) and have steep drops, but 13 year old me was able to go on them with no problem. In fact, though I was scared, I actually enjoyed it.

This time around (age 22 years), I was absolutely terrified of roller coasters to the point where I became anxious during the smaller coaster rides like Runaway Mine Train and the kiddie coaster- Harley Quinn. In fact, my anxiety reached a breaking point when we went on Skull Mountain, where I didn’t know what to expect at all since it was so dark in there. I was screaming during the entire ride. When the ride ended, I didn’t realize why I was screaming so much.

Needless to say, it was certainly a fun day, and as a group of 6, we made so many memories that I will never forget. In a way, it was a way to celebrate us completing 4 years of a 6 year PharmD program. Here’s to many more fun times ahead.

DISCLAIMER: This isn’t a post about anxiety or anything. I don’t think I actually have anxiety to the point where I have panic attacks. I realize how severe a condition such as anxiety is, and I have never been diagnosed with anxiety. Maybe I have become so aware of certain things, that my mind doesn’t allow me to enjoy rides as much as I used to.

Why does everyone care so much? — May 24, 2016

Why does everyone care so much?

I received my Bachelor’s degree the other day. That doesn’t mean I’m done with school; I have two years left until I receive my PharmD and become a pharmacist. But apparently in Desi culture receiving your Bachelor’s signifies eligibility for marriage. So there’s that, and quite repetitively that’s what I’ll be writing about today.

If I haven’t made it clear before, I am not against the idea of marriage, even arranged marriage. I want to get married and have kids more than anything in the world. But I want to approach the issue in a halal way (aka Muslim aka Islam approved). I’m a semi religious, semi conservative Pakistani girl. Yes, I’ve been raised in America, but I never agreed with the American culture of dating around until you find the one.

Now, in order to approach the topic the halal way, I have to talk to my parents about it. And that’s the most difficult part. No matter how close I am to my parents  (very close btw), it’s always difficult to bring it up and talk to them about this matter. What do I tell them? Do I go, “listen I know I have 2 more years left until my PharmD and I want to do a residency, but I also want to get engaged”? It’s so simple to write it out, but it takes a lot of courage to actually say it.

Then there’s the fear also. What kind of boys (erm, men rather) will be sent my way? What if they’re too old? What if they’re too paindu? What if my own heart is broken? What if there’s someone more perfect and I’m just going to settle for someone now?

I’m so particular when it comes to everything. Decisions I make on a whim result in disastrous outcomes. This decision is the rest of my life. And I’m only 22, so what’s the rush?

There’s also the fact that I’m just tired of being alone. Yeah, yeah feminism and you don’t need a man to feel (insert stuff here). Feminism is supposed to accept all beliefs. Okay so back to the main topic, I feel alone. There’s something a significant other gives emotionally that a parent or friend cannot. It’s hard to explain, but the emotional support from a SO is vastly different from that of a friend.

I tried to talk to my mom about this once, but she didn’t seem interested. She kept ignoring my questions and the conversation didn’t move forward. I also got very angry with her for ignoring me because who else will I talk to about this stuff? Friends, yeah, but if I want to take this major step I need my mother to help me also. But she doesn’t provide that support. It’s as if she doesn’t even want me to get married.

Sorry went off on a little tangent there. But this is how I feel and the pressure from everyone is too real. It’s my life, but everyone’s concerned about it.

— May 9, 2016

I’ve been trying and trying to write blog posts these past few months. The semester from hell is over, I’m getting my bachelor’s degree, and I don’t know how to write a proper blogpost anymore. So that’s a small update on my life. I’m hoping to get back into the grind on blogging. I want to blog, I miss blogging, but I have writer’s block.

The Value of Education — January 24, 2016

The Value of Education

(This won’t be one of my normal blog posts, but nonetheless it’ll be interesting.)

My parents college education is worth nothing. My parents have both graduated college with a Bachelor’s (B.S.) degree in Chemistry and Physical Therapy (father and mother, respectively). The only problem is they obtained their education in Pakistan, so in this advanced first world country their college education means nothing.

They have worked just as hard as anyone else who has received a Bachelor’s degree. They worked extra hard to legally enter the U.S. in hopes of obtaining further education. However, since their education was not valued as highly as an American obtained Bachelor’s, they financially could never afford to further their education and obtain a higher level degree.

That doesn’t mean they’re not as qualified for the positions they apply for. They left their white collar positions in Pakistan to come to the land of freedom to pursue the American dream. Yet when they arrived, they were forced to work lower level positions. (**NOTE: Nothing wrong with these positions. Trust me, no job is too little and under circumstances you just have to take up whatever job you can get to survive.)

Here’s the thing, my father was a supervisor in the Pakistani branch of a well-known pharmaceutical company. My mother owned her own clinic and worked as a PT in a hospital. However, after coming to America, they never worked in these fields ever again.

To pay the bills, my father took to becoming a security guard at the airport during the night while selling phone cards during the day. My mother worked in a warehouse. We had to rent out a room, bathroom, and kitchen because we couldn’t even afford an apartment.

Things got better, though. My dad received a job offer at a chemical company in New Jersey. We packed up and moved. But even then, my mom started working at a dry cleaners. When my brother was born, she gave up her career to take care of us.

Eighteen years later (present day), she’s looking for a job. Any job, if she’s lucky even a job in her field, but her education is nothing. Her sacrifice to properly raise her children haunts her daily. She applies to multiple positions daily. These positions range from cashier to physical therapy aide. Yet every single time, they reject her. She never gives up hope, but I have because while this country is great, it ruined my parents life.

My father’s job helps pay our bills, bring food to the table, and let’s us enjoy life once in a while. He was the supervisor at a pharmaceutical company, but now when he applies to those jobs, they reject him. He has the qualifications, he meets the requirements, but still he’s rejected.

Our family income places us in no man’s land (since the middle class is disappearing). Our total income is slightly more than the poverty line, but significantly less than upper class. With this, we survive and manage to pay out of pocket whatever remaining tuition I have for college.

My parents have worked hard. They are educated and would continue to work hard. But the ones who judge based on resume never see that. My parents college education is worth nothing. But my parents sacrifice means everything to me. When I graduate with my PharmD, I know that they realize it was all worth it.