Ormaz's diary

In this day and age, it's pretty common to be identified as something, the collective identity has overshadowed the individual identity of a person, mainly in light of recent identity politics; where being a collective is the only way to be recognized for a single cause that stems from multiple ideologies coming together trying to achieve everything and nothing at once, but that’s not the point, at the end of the day, it's an identity that we refer ourselves with, in a collective sense I am a Pakistani, brown, Indo-Aryan ethnic, tall, not so muscular, reasonably rational, teenager(as if right now), secular-thiest, and as an individual, since I am just “Fahad Ormaz”. But identity is not something we've had inherently, it's our way of giving an identity to an object/subject and understanding things in this complicated world that is beyond our sensory comprehension if we remove the subjective identity from a respective object/subject of interest. In my experience, I...

 A while ago someone told him things are not what they seem to be, of course, I was eavesdropping on them, but then again I don't think that would be a correct term to use here, I don't eavesdrop on people but what I did back then is more close to eavesdropping than simply observing subjects, I would not say that it was intentional because I often wander around those part of the isle yet it felt intentional, maybe because I stuck around with them longer than what is considered normal, but then again it would be wrong if I categorize my action in "normal" as they're far from them, well I guess I did what I had to, but look at it this way, I have something to tell you, whoever that you might be but still.  People don't like to be heard when they talk about things that could shatter the persona they crafted for the world to look at and use it as their "self" to reflect, justify, or outright commit their excuses, ideas, or everything in between, but then...

 It is said that there's a stranger lurks in the mists of forgotten lands, well a while ago, maybe quite a long ago, I couldn't properly recall, could be yesterday or could be millennia prior, I met a stranger on the path that's long been forbidden, or perhaps it was just a dream, but it felt real, I'd argue that it felt more real than reality itself, either way, I remember vividly that I traced footsteps that which were imprinted on the soil stiffer than a frozen clay yet still moist, I felt the breeze coming out from the underneath my footsteps as I went along the path that never was, but those breezes didn't stop, they gradually turned into exhales of millions of souls buried under that blessed yet cursed walkway to the heavens up above or hell down below, I still remember vividly where I was supposed to be going, yet I still couldn't recall, there was also a strange hue on the sky up above, it surely couldn't be heaven, heaven isn't supposed to look ...