They call me insane for questioning the life they call perfect.

They made me believe that I wasn’t beautiful enough. They made me believe no one would want to spend or build a life with me. They made me believe I wasn’t worth taking a stand for.

They made me believe I was delusional for wanting a conscious and intentional life. They made me feel like an insane daydreamer, distant from the realities of life.

They made me believe I was a psycho for wanting to build a family with an emotionally capable man and raise an emotionally intelligent and consciously available family.

But am I insane? Am I the one distant from reality? Spending a life in the kitchen for someone, sacrificing your dreams, fearing to utter even a word in case it infuriates them, lacking a safe space to disagree or grow, being emotionally, mentally, and physically abused for the sake of the kids—calling that a perfect life?

As if life was always meant to look like this? Am I insane? Am I distant?

The truth is, no one has dared till this date to show this society a mirror of their filth. Now, since I am here, this ugly, filthy world is uncomfortably angry at me.

Am I insane for questioning the life they call perfect? Am I really insane for questioning the life they call perfect?

— Sadia Hakim  // Letters Unsent; Sadia Hakim’s Poetry Journal