The Farewell diary of Worthy shit by Muhammad A Aqib - HTML preview
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INTRODUCTION
A kind-hearted, a silent-kid, a smart-clever boy, a different mentality, an un-puzzled, a bastard, a shit and much more…. Are you thinking why al these words have been displayed above, you think it may be I am accepting myself? Absolutely, yes it was my emblem given by society and neighborhood. A quiet personality - a pimpled face - a zero personality knowledge - social-nerd and much more… yes, it was just my surnames and how vibrant they actual y were!
Let’s get into the point, my name is V, you may have heard it right?
Anonymously it was my very special name given by someone who doesn't even exist now, a far away a story of a child whose father torturing them with abusive carnage and destructing mental health critical y and after the day they realized they were not extroverts - a chil kids anymore, the day they decide to selfly-assassinate themselves, as of today everyone suffering parental issues in these some people with no reason, a money purpose or a dreamed things these people are absolute shits. But some dreaming to have just a father talking a two words and just signing their progress cards at a time, just enough fate for them and cause they need nothing more than they likely have it, obviously these typical people are wil ing to value a thing not to volute the thing, they drowned in absence and they especial y respecting their presence by honor.
Many people have their own tastes at parenting, nowadays it's just a fashion on wishing them at specific (father/mother) day and also aint knowing the value of having a sibling is just a shame on them, obviously, “we have something - we value nothing, we have nothing -
we value everything” it's just a quote from a wise man.
However, not al parenting is beneficial. Some parents are strict, imposing rigid rules and expectations on their children. While discipline is necessary, excessive strictness can stifle a child's growth and creativity. Even more concerning are the parents who can be described as pure evil. These parents never al ow their children to grow up or find their own path. Instead, they control every aspect of their lives, leading to a stunted and unfulfil ed existence. These children are neither al owed to rise or fal ; they are kept in a perpetual state of limbo, unable to truly live. In this book, I delve into the psychological tactics that can help individuals navigate and overcome such oppressive environments. One story that stands out is my own. Growing up, I faced significant chal enges due to my father's abusive behavior. He was a man who believed in strict control and manipulation, never al owing me to express myself or pursue my dreams. This constant oppression led to severe social anxiety and a feeling of being trapped.
But through my journey, I discovered the power of psychological tactics. By understanding the mechanisms of manipulation and influence, I learned how to regain control over my life. I began to document my experiences and observations in a diary, which eventual y became the foundation for this book.
These tactics not only helped me navigate my relationship with my
father but also empowered me to deal with others who tried to use and manipulate me. This book is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of knowledge. It offers insights into the dynamics of manipulation, the importance of psychological awareness, and the strength that comes from understanding oneself. My hope is that readers wil find solace and empowerment in these pages, just as I did. For those who are aware of reading psychology and manipulative cohesive edges, then this book is super suitable to them and nextly I'm gonna put al of my life in this book. As an author, I experienced the whole 10+ years of turning my life around and I would highly recommend who are just “!” To my life, then read this book keenly or simply, this book is the definition of an author’s life and the beginning of the writing era. My first and effective holding book ever written is these and this book wil drown you to somewhere and lastly, each and every part of this is self-experience based on true detection, trials and resulting worth and how a story of this book turned it into somewhere else, so I request to hold until reading the story of this book effectively so, have a happy reading.
THE STORY
This is the most complicated concept of my life. I have never revealed it to anybody else til now, so without any non-sense description let me explain it formal y.
A 7-year old kid living in a rural area along with a short family (father/mother/handicapped-brother), At the very first we settled in DVK
rural near our maternal residence. I just joined school there, a private school named C.V Raman high school and there i started studying. A year passed and I don't know where the scratch actual y started. That is “from when my father started criticizing me?”
He started doing it when I was 5-years- old, which my mother claims but actual y I haven't taken it seriously since I was just child. But everytime i sit to do my homework I see voices coming from the room, they are fighting and then suddenly my heart-rate gets high and I shiver. I remember this: my mother took me to a child-care hospital to check up on the shivering.
“Beta, are you feeling fever and headache?”
“No,mummah!”
“But you gotta temperature high, its burning, beta”
“Doctor, my son is suffering shiverness, what happened to him? He also got a fever and headache too.
“No, mummah! “I hadn't experienced what you said, it's just hea…………….!
The doctor shuts my mouth and started checking me through stethoscope, then he said it’s just a fever and cold nothing enough, use paracetamol and warm-water better.But the backlogged doctor doesn't even know that day he treated to the boy who started suffering social anxiety disorder and its his first day.
This type of incidents much happened when i was just 7-8 year old but i can remind this one cause it was my first day experiencing to be born as an introvert and just watching medical slip and uncompleted slip-notes of english i haven’t fil ed in the blanks that day, and work is incomplete and the nightmare started, mark the age a 7-year primary redemption.
Apart from these, even today my teachers at the school claims i'm the clever ever in that school and the most event participant in programmes, basical y even my parental abusing started while i was just in primary standard i didnt even experienced because here it al starts, a girl entered into my life and from very linear concept, and she wil made the day i wanted to.
After I finished school, I usual y went straight home, but one day in 2014, a year ful of memorable blessings, something changed. I was walking along my usual path when an aunt cal ed out to me. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, "Can you please take my son along with you? Just make sure he gets to his class and then comes to my place for lunch, both of you, okay?"
This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment request. She had seen me walking with my friends in the same direction her son was going. The kid was in nursery school, I think. The next day, I started picking him up and taking him to school. During lunch, I would bring him back to his house, which was conveniently located between my home and the school, about 50 meters away.
It became a daily routine. Along with eating tiffin at school, I took him to his house and had lunch there as wel .
As a daily purpose at the lunch time and evening, i stayed at their home and there was a point, the kid im taking him is Junaid afzal, a 4 year old and his elder sister “Zarah yamin” a turning identity entered into my life and this whole book is on this girl and what actual y made me write this book? What is the relation with her? Why did I hide this concept these days? What is the reason? So, now starts a very very main instructive concept here, so let's see.
THE INCEPTION OF ZARAH AND AUTHOR
As a daily-purpose im likely to choose him from his house and letting us both to reach school especial y, when junaid and me arrive at his house at lunch, there were a free-environment and stick this “The most relative and trust-worthy family” ìve experienced, the close relative (Junaid's mother) Sara tabassum, when i begun caring her child, she appeared much fondness to me, the communication she begins at that point it'll never be take off, at evening same to take off at domestic, at that point i met with his senior sister zarah yamin, i dont remind the primary communication but she said to come home every evening that we al are getting to ponder gathered and making assignments, at that point i'm inquisitive as wel that apart from male companions that i got my to begin with ever female companion there.
I started getting to zarah's house at each evening when i arrive to my domestic and after that get out with my dairy and books quickly there, we assembled 6 there but second-standard are fair three individuals and other three are nursery that they are do anything it would be.
I completed my work and her as wel , at that point we began talking .
At that point her house is lovely insane every time i enter into the house they had no sentiments like an external stranger, at the primary day close relative pov on me is on tal that i'm caring junaid, and after talking with zarah too.
The bond was running like that, I keep in mind that each evening it got to be night like 8: 00 PM but stil I can't get out of her house the bloom
feeling, she was as insane as testing everything and we both played al day on occasions and grinning faces and giggling finished.
An independence day came, apart from speeches i selected to dance there and i need to dance with “Jai ho” song and teacher elected a boy and girl to each but i tried to let zarah at this moment, so i asked to faculty cause she was not my school her brother is, so permission granted and we danced there and also at any function she got absent for her school and ran away for my recal and at many her house is festival to me, i swear that there is no day since i met her missed to go at her home, the journey is fade away from my mind then but it become a first sigh and unbreakable bond and especial y, we both are sarcastic,creative and extroverts too.
The bond we shared was unforgettable. But when I completed my fourth grade, my parents decided to move us to a new residence in MHMD. We moved, and at that time, I didn't feel particularly sad or troubled about leaving her. However, I knew deep down that this moment would leave a lasting impact on me, as I would miss her greatly. We were so young that we didn't even realize the depth of our connection, but our friendship was far from ordinary.
To this day, I haven't told my mother about her. I used to say I was going to tuition, but I never mentioned her. It's shocking, but I don't ful y understand why. Without saying a word, I left for my new home with my paternal family, and we drifted apart.
This marked the true beginning of the spark, a poignant and descriptive moment that highlights the empathy and connection we shared. That day, Zarah Yamin and I parted ways ,and our lives took different paths.
So, the main part of the story ends here. The memories have faded because we were just kids then. I'm recounting this story without giving exact addresses, locations, or incidents. The story is set to have an impactful conclusion for the author.
After 2015, I moved to my paternal residence and didn't think of her. I wasn't even sure if I had real y met that girl. As days turned into years, a sense of ashen hope lingered. Every holiday, I would run back to my maternal home. I don't know why, but I always felt immense peace and satisfaction there, despite having nothing tangible. I couldn't pinpoint the reason for my love for holidays at that place.
A lot happened during that gap, which wil be detailed in the "Author's Invoice" at the end of the book. During the summer vacation of 2022, after completing my secondary education, I visited the same place. Though my memory is hazy, I met her cousin Rafay there. He was a bald guy, a year older than me. We weren't close before, but I encountered him during that visit. He recognized me, approached me, and we talked about her after seven long years.
For the first time, he introduced her name to me, and suddenly, my mind became an il usionist, transporting me back to my past. I was reminded of the most adventurous and embarrassing moments of my life. That day, I thought I had a sister. Rafay explained everything that had happened and how they were living now. Unfortunately, due to work, he had to leave without sharing any contact details or social information. From the beginning of 2022, I experienced a pivotal moment. Despite my character (as detailed in the “Author’s Invoice”), I didn't initial y feel nostalgic. But as
time passed, I remembered why I used to visit my maternal family. I began to imagine her, engaging in self-talk, and our virtual connection grew so strong that I started researching her through people I knew. Eventual y, I pieced together how we had met.
One day, Rafay messaged me. By the time January vacation 2023 arrived, it felt like an imaginary time-lapse had evaporated so quickly. He informed me, “Zarah has been at their home address for a month already.” I tried to get in touch with her social y, but we had never interacted online before. I decided to take my grandpa’s bike and head out to my old school, which had been developed into a circular society ful of housing developments.
I asked Rafay for the house number and final y got there. The gate was unlocked, and the familiar building from my childhood fil ed me with nervous hope. Without a second thought, I approached and cal ed out.
Junaid, who was about my height, came out and greeted me with
"Assalamualaikum." I recognized him and asked his name. “Junaid,” he replied. “Are you the son of Sara aunt?” I asked. “Yes, but who are you?”
His kind greeting put me at ease, and I introduced myself.
I was a bit nervous, meeting a stranger after so long. He welcomed me into the house. There were just three people inside: Junaid, his mother, and Zarah. Junaid mentioned that Rafay had told him about me previously.
They were shocked but happy to meet me. The aunt was especial y excited, with many reactions and emotions. We had lunch together, and after a clear conversation and a long-awaited reunion with Zarah Yamin, I realized she was as silent and introverted as ever, yet stil the same person I remembered.
She talked a lot, and so did I. Yet, both of us were shy and nervous. Despite the gap, she optimised and shared everything. Our conversation flowed
smoothly. She was shocked to meet me after seven years, and I was equal y surprised by how her family greeted me, giving me such high preference like a long-lost relative.
She couldn't interact with me on social media due to their spiritual beliefs.
She began to talk about her life after I left, so let me expand on that.
After we finished fourth grade and then fifth, they stayed for a year before her father, who was a business consultant, led them to move to another city.
They left their house and furniture as a guest house. She told me they were mainly from Qatar and lived in India for her mother's side of the family.
Their main home was in DVK, but the maternal family and neighborhood didn't value them much. The only meaningful interaction she had was with me and my cousin's family.
She didn't have any friends and spent her time alone, watching television.
Shockingly, she revealed she had been studying online from home in Arabic as the primary language. Then she said something heartbreaking: she had epilepsy. Epilepsy is a neurological disorder characterized by recurrent, unprovoked seizures. She explained it to me simply as a brain disease that could cause serious health conditions at any time. She told me it was congenital, preventing her from going out alone or attending school. Her mother had to take care of her at home with ventilating medicines.
That's when I understood why she couldn't go to school. She also shared that, due to financial and personal issues, her father had become abusive, torturing her mom and drinking every night. This toxic environment affected her mental health, leading her to introversion and overthinking, compounded by a brain tumor. Despite everything, she hoped to live with a happy face, determined to win at any cost.
She completed her secondary education through virtual courses, but her grades were low due to the adverse environment created by her father.
Junaid also suffered, becoming mental y distressed and resorting to vaping.
Amidst al this, she told me something shocking and deeply emotional:
"I total y missed you. Whenever I thought of our memories, I felt peace and calm. I tried to find you at any cost, and now that I have, please don't leave me again, brother. I don't need medicine to fight my brain. I need my mother, brother, and you, my big brother."
“She said this al and also some other but the value and wil ing of mine to her is so much and that she’s thinking to have me with her”
Aunt came and said “we greeted you and yes! Related to you so eagerly for how you actual y shared my children's happiness and how actual y you were to be and many times Zarah always waits for you we are not in hope of something from you. Just your presence and talkative part for my daughter is enough so be on that!!
She shared al this and more, revealing the depth of her feelings and how much I meant to her. It was clear that she valued and longed for my presence, hoping to have me in her life once again. Her words were fil ed with a mix of nostalgia and hope, creating a poignant moment that touched my heart.
Her aunt then stepped in, her voice gentle but firm. "We greeted you eagerly, as if you were already a part of our family. You've brought so much happiness to my children, especial y Zarah. She always waited for you, cherishing the moments you shared. We're not expecting anything from
you, just your presence and the joy of your company for my daughter.
That's al we ask—just be there for her."
The sincerity in her aunt's words struck a chord with me. The love and care they had for me were genuine, and the bond we shared was unbreakable. I felt a deep sense of responsibility and affection, realizing that my presence alone could bring solace and happiness to their lives And it's been a long time i reached there so i said i wil try to come on tomorrow cause she doesn't even use social-media so, i just taken a contact of her mother for use and then suddenly a shocking thing they said “they are moving to city along with furniture and we are debted so and explained a financial loss and tomorrow we are moving, they got emotional and i feel silence in their minds and her father reached home drinking a while that fel down at gate and murmuring haven’t noticing me and junaid “got him and slept on bed” and what is going on and i remain nothing there everything started suddenly at first behalf and saying bye and come back to home (my grandpa’s house in countryside).
That day i didn't understand anything but inner chaos was ful y disturbing and I felt reflected on “am i that much useful for someone?” and too much ongoing in my head and heard the news that they are moving out tomorrow and its simultaneous shock that i'm not ready for.
The next day, January 14th, 2023, I went to her house. There was a traveler loading furniture, and I tried to help. Her dad recognized me and just looked at me. With only half an hour left before they were to leave town, an unforgettable, heart-melting experience happened to me.
She suddenly started crying, grabbed my hand, and took me to the veranda.
I had no words for what she was doing. Everyone was shocked to see her crying so brutal y. I didn't know how to calm her, and my heart was pounding. Junaid tried to soothe her, but she wouldn't let go of my hand.
Her father, indifferent, told the laborers, "Okay! Okay! Move on, start work." She kept crying, and I asked nervously, "What happened? Don't worry."
She wasn't letting go of my hand, crying so much that the neighbors were watching us. Her aunt tried to intervene,
"Hey! Shut up, what nonsense is this? Leave him, this is not the way to do this." But she wouldn't calm down.
After some time, her hiccuping cries slowly subsided, and she stared at me. I started to get emotional too, with a lot of questions swirling inside me.
"I just had very few people in my life, and due to my disease, I haven't explored the world. I don't know how to interact with everyone. I am afraid of living here," she said.
Her words hit me hard. She continued,
"See, I just lived my life only as a 7-year-old after my father started abusing my mother, beating her in front of Junaid and me. She was crying, and he didn't value us as children. He drank too much and didn't care about my brain disease or how it impacted me. Staying isolated and lonely at home, imagining a happy childhood, was the only way I found happiness. You wouldn't believe it, but every evening is a nightmare for me. I cry at midnight, not knowing what to do. There are no solutions in my hand. I think of my mother when I cry, and I feel like my brain is tumoring. It
affects me so much that my mother can't even see me. I cry, and my immunity and daily headaches strike me, but I've never told anyone until now. I always try to be kind and good to the neighborhood, but no one comes to play with me because of my father's behavior. They ignore me.
Junaid started vaping cigarettes, hiding it from mom but tel ing me. How can I handle him? He's become a bad habit for us. I experience traumatic attacks on my brain daily. One day, I saw our childhood photos in my mother's Google Drive—playing, dancing at cultural events, singing songs. I remembered you and felt so happy. I thought of contacting you and told my mom. She was happy too, but we couldn't find you. I told Junaid, but I didn't know where it would end. But literal y, I love you so much. You're my medicine now, and I swear, don't ever leave me. This cry is expressing the astonishment of your presence after al this time."
Even with too many health issues and lonely experiences, I dreamt of your presence in my brother Junaid, but he doesn't care like you do. Whenever I go out for peace, some guys giggle at me, stare at me, and torture me with their words. One guy never leaves me alone, and I cried about it. I thought Junaid would protect me, but he's too busy chasing other girls. Maybe you are the one who wil be there beside me, caring for me.
"Maybe you wil be with me when I feel lonely. Maybe you wil be with me when I'm crying. Maybe you wil enlighten a bond with me. Maybe you wil be a protective brother to me, a medicine to me. Maybe you wil become what I imagined you to be, my reality. Maybe you wil share a bond with me. Why can't you even try to see me? I hope this is al for good. Final y, you came. From now on, you wil be what I dreamed of, and you wil do what I need you to do for me. Are you here for me? Promise me!"
Hearing this kind of emotional plea from her, I was total y broken. She was giving me main-character preference and equating me to her protector.
"Maybe you wil be the protective father I dreamed of, the protective brother I wished for. If it al happens, I am ready to fight my brain disease and start a fresh life from now."
"Okay, promise me you wil never leave me?"
I silently remained, feeling overwhelmed, and said, "Okay."
The time came for them to leave, and final y, I said goodbye to the family. I left with a mesmerizing, doubtful, emotional end, and they departed.
AAfter some time, I started reflecting, "Is this real y me? Am I the same person my neighborhood criticizes?" I felt like I was drowning in her eyes.
She saw me as her only hope, and her mother was trying to calm her. The whole family gave me the highest preference ever. In just two days, I wondered, "How did I become so important? How did my extroversion help me create such an emotional relationship with her?" It was al about the luck I made in my childhood and how impactful it was.
After this incident, she never let go of my hand. She walked with me, and I thought about her mental health and her nightmare evenings. When she said, "Maybe you," I felt ashamed. She prioritized me as her protector, but I was an introvert and a low-key guy who never did much for her. The day she talked to me felt like a dream. She was more introverted than me, a mental y handicapped and lonely girl. She mentioned me as an elder brother, and I couldn't help her. Maybe I wished I was stil a 7-year-old.
What made us both mental y destructed and how easily a relationship was born to me is discussed briefly at the end of this book. Let's get on with the story.
When she said she wasn't available social y, I couldn't message or cal her because her number was temporarily blocked. I thought about her al day, even at col ege and at home. I got my diary and started writing from December 2023. Then, in January, Rafay cal ed me, saying, "She is serious and in an emergency." He told me she was on a ventilator, fighting a cerebrum stroke and nervous stack. I asked for more details, but he said nothing was clear. "The family group discussion has been posted," he said.
I felt physical y broken and depressed about her. He didn't give me the address, and even if he did, I couldn't go there. I felt a loss and got more depressed. He wasn't answering his phone, and I tried too much for interaction but to no avail. After I cured myself from fear, I cal ed him once again. He said, "She's alright, no worries—just a tumor in the brain and tissue breakdown. She's alright." I asked why she hadn't messaged me. He said, "Okay."
It had been a month, and I was total y crushed by mental issues over her, thinking critical y. Then, on February 14th, a devastating note came. Rafay said,
"Zarah has died."
My soul left my body. My heart rate suddenly spiked, and my breathing quickened. My eyes wel ed with tears. He said, "She died due to a brain
tumor attack and nervous bleeding through her head. She died on January 29th, 2024. I was busy, so I didn't notify you."
He attended her funeral. Her mom was uncontrol ably crying, and only 15
people attended the "Janaza" (funeral prayers). Her father didn't cry, and many others didn't either. Her death was formal y and easily concluded, with no feelings from anyone because she never interacted with anyone.
I was shocked, unable to speak. I couldn't explain what was running through my mind.
After many days, my maternal uncle passed away. I attended his funeral with the same pain as hers. It broke me for a while. It was a devastating year so far, and I was so broken that I couldn't lift his grave that day. After that, Rafay messaged me and sent me a screenshot of a message Zarah had sent me through her mom's phone. It was ‘unsend as failed’ to send after her checkup in January. She had written something unclear: That is :
39
“Assalamuwalaikum,
I hope you are wel . I'm doing okay now, and I'm so sorry it took me this long to reply to your message. You know what, bhayya? I have a serious brain issue, but I'm feeling good and happy now. The sad part is that the surgery was so expensive that my mummah had to sel her necklace. Despite that, I'm feeling so happy right now, but I miss you so much. I was crying and talking a lot, and you didn't imply anything that left me with a question mark, you know? But I prayed for your wel -being. You know, from childhood, we were good painters and artists. So, I'm taking professional painting classes now, which makes me happy. What about you? Is everything okay? Rafay told me you were using him to pass messages to me, bhayya. That's enough for me, knowing you care about me.
He said you're thinking too much about me—don't. My dream is for you to start earning money for my permanent brain treatment. I hope you can do it for me, bhayya. My father tortured me too much, and he stil does. As you said, "Nothing is
going to happen until our fathers realize we are their children." But I'm 18
now, and I haven't seen my father change as you stated. You know, Junaid has become an aggressive vagabond (awara) and doesn't care. He's just a bad habit. Mummah said it's over; he's fol owing his father's path. What should we do now? After too much abuse, mummah told me, "Live like your father is dead." Don't let him into our space, but bhayya, he's stil criticizing us.
He's not going to leave us at any cost.
You know, bhayya, my mental health problems are caused by him. Why do these types of evils exist? Are we innocents who aren't needed in this society,
40
or are we useless? Maybe nature made us distinct from living together as I dreamed, but our memories healed me. Just thinking about our interactions makes me happy. I'm excited because I'm returning there this summer vacation. It's super exciting for me, and I know you'll do something different for me. I'm waiting for you. Don't think my disease is total y cured now. But maybe in front of you, I may not talk this confidently, so I'm texting it.
Bhayya, I want to know why fathers criticize their own children. Is there no solution? Is suffering the only option? Despite everything, I wish my father would return to Qatar. I dream of becoming an artist and a spiritual-Islamic lecturer. If anyone makes a mistake, I would point it out and protect children suffering from introversion. Maybe my part in your life is short, but my imagination is al about you. You're my support that brought me here.
I know, bhayya, you are suffering from something too, but you haven't texted me yet. But you changed for me. Please, bhayya, don't let anyone know about the space between us. I just want you and my mother. Don't tel anyone, bhayya. My mother deserves a good husband, but in this life, I can't repay her debt of sacrifice. I think I'm useless, but you remind me that we are the same. When you told me to search for hope to live, I dedicatedly said, "You're my hope, bhayya." Love you until you become my biological brother. Maybe in the next life, you'll be my brother, and we won't be isolated. We'll be the friendly guys I dreamt of. Amen!
Take care of your health, bhayya. I can't wait for summer. Al ah Hafeez…”
“A first social-message ever received by her and a last message of her life”
(can’t explain my feeling after reading this i just kicked my head and remained watering my eyes and so clean journey as further).
And likely this typical journey with someone who is just a scratch and childhood interaction to death note and i just remained feeling silent after releasing this and i thought this is no longer a cinematic livelihood that she demanded and obviously i can’t explain my envy here cause this is just a book and yes, i doesn't even shared about this also to my mom that she promised me and in DVK the time i experienced was seen no-one i just get her and memories enough and my highlighted thing she giving a high preference, respect and honor as a blooded relationship and without an confession she passed away - a whole year nightmare to me and probably this is the story has been recorded as from now and i'm going to explain some turn and relative cause of her at the last of the book and how our chemistry made nearer so far.)
Writing this book is my conclusive inception of my life and memorial to zarah yamin - my late sister's that i haven't attended to her funeral and this book is al about the distinctive concept about parental abusivement and how to deal with these typical evils and from suffering brain tumors whole life, this book is memorial to her.
“May your soul rest in peace dear, this life doesn't let our relation alive but i swear that if i next life i am your father and that you dreamed of”
~ Author
A Psychology of my beloved sister
I often wonder how people can bring others down without considering their mental health. I shared my stories on social media, but it felt futile, and I concluded that most people just don't care. But Zarah's influence made me question, "Is life worth living as an introvert?" Through her death, she implied, "No!" In her absence, I try to see her in others, hoping to keep her memory alive.
I researched relentlessly, delving into my paternal relations, cousins, and neighbors, but no one showed genuine interest. They betrayed me, leaving me feeling alone and disregarded.
I always thought about earning money for Zarah’s treatment and maintaining a connection with her. However, due to parental pressure, I pursued a diploma in construction, which felt like a waste of my valuable time. I tried to engage with people, hoping to find glimpses of her, but they offered me nothing but immense pain.
Nowadays, I see Gen-Z using social media as a form of therapeutic healing.
Her presence always brightened my day, and I had never met anyone like her—same mindset, same optimism, same chemistry. It felt like a gift and a stroke of luck.
After her death, I struggled with mental il ness, which led me to drop out of polytechnics at 18. I began writing this book in 2023 and 2024, drawing
from my experiences during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. After four years, this book has become a culmination of my reflections on harsh parenting, control, and manipulative insights, which I wil discuss in this book.
People often brought me down, but I realized that it's time for a confession.
Yes, my sister left this world without any answers from our father. For those suffering from over-control or abuse, this book offers solutions. Lastly, I want to thank my mother and my abusive father for inspiring me to write this book. Unlike my sister, I survived, and I vow never to let anyone die without information to help them.
This book is divided into main theories based on the harsh people I've encountered. I've identified common habits and encrypted solutions for each. Please read each theory with care, refer to the glossary for better understanding, and let's begin this journey together. I tried to put her presence with interacting someone who accepts me as a good neighbor, or a friend but after too many tries i fell down there and this not works at all.