Hey, why all the complaints?” a voice questioned, laced with frustration.
“What’s up with you? God has given you two hands, two eyes, and legs. Why stand here if you don’t like it? If you’re not happy, why not move on?” another voice chimed in, its tone tinged with impatience.
“Why do you always see problems instead of solutions? Why do you make everything seem so impossible?” The words felt like a relentless assault, cutting deep into Iqra’s heart.
“Listen, your past is in the past. Stop dwelling on the life you used to have…” Once filled with understanding, the voices now carried a hint of irritation.
“Oh, so it’s just easier to play the blame game, huh?” The final remark stung, leaving Iqra feeling even more isolated in her pain.
These were the insensitive comments she had grown accustomed to hearing whenever she tried to express the immense pain she was going through. Regrettably, these words came from the mouths of those who claimed to love her.
Iqra was no stranger to adversity. She considered herself a survivor who had faced challenges that would have crushed many others. She was a well-educated, beautiful woman who had navigated a difficult life that might not have seemed as harsh to her siblings, but her sensitivity magnified every hardship.
In her personal life, Iqra had struggled to build meaningful relationships. She refused to compromise her authenticity to fit into a society she saw as hypocritical. To those around her, it seemed as though Iqra had lost her sense of boundaries, but she viewed it as preserving her integrity.
People continually urged her to do more to improve her life. Still, no one seemed to understand that no effort could make her fit into a world where people carried their emotional baggage.
Iqra had contemplated ending her life on several occasions. Life had lost all meaning to her, as she had never truly felt loved by anyone, and the person she loved most lived far away in another world.
A few weeks after her tragic suicide, her beloved brother Emad discovered a note beneath her laptop. In it, she addressed him with words that would haunt him forever:
“Dear Emad
I knew that only you would have the courage and curiosity to understand why I ended my life. Life has never been merciful to me, and you know I struggled beyond my capabilities. But not everyone can become brilliant or a success story. Some people are physically unfit, and some are mentally broken. I hold no complaints. I’ve merely found this journey to be purposeless.
You know I’ve always loved you and everyone, and I want you all to be happy. Suicide isn’t a sad ending for me; it’s the only way to free the energy trapped in a cage for 36 years. Remember the good times we shared, and always be happy for me because you matter.
Love you,
Your’s Appo
Her brother wept like a child, realizing that this time, he had lost the one who used to wipe his tears.
We’ve often been told that suicide is a selfish act, a sanctuary for the faint-hearted. However, our understanding has evolved, revealing quite the opposite. More often than not, the most diligent, sensitive souls succumb to the crushing weight of despair.
Tragically, those who point fingers and cast judgment often callously ignore the desperate pleas of the departed when they cry out for a listening ear.
According to the World Health Organization, a staggering 700,000 people lose their lives to suicide each year. While precise suicide statistics for Pakistan may remain elusive, the enormity of the issue becomes evident by merely skimming the pages of daily newspapers.
In Pakistan, as in many parts of the world, poverty and depression loom as formidable foes in the battle against suicide. Depression, a silent tormentor that preys on the young and old alike, knows no boundaries.
This story is not singularly about Iqra. We’ve borne witness to individuals from all walks of life surrendering to the darkness of despair. Even beloved figures from the world of showbiz, symbols of success, have tragically succumbed to the insidious grip of depression. It serves as a stark reminder that success alone cannot shield one from the relentless clutches of this harrowing disease.
One significant hurdle in this battle is the scarcity of affordable psychotherapy options. Mental health services often remain out of reach for those who desperately need them, intensifying the suffering of those grappling with depression.
If we genuinely value human lives, we must extend a compassionate ear to those who seek help rather than allow their cries to echo unanswered. Let us create a nurturing environment for those around us, offering unwavering support and understanding.
This is how we can prevent future tragedies, saving lives and sparing the heart-wrenching regrets that haunt the so-called loved ones of individuals like Iqra.
