Quotes

Art is political and poetry is biased – Quotes on political poetry by Sadia Hakim

Quote ~ ~ Sadia Hakim ~ Leave a comment

Art was always political because art challenges these very things that fool people and destroy civilizations. It must. ~ Sadia Hakim

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In the time of moral crisis, oppression and inhumanity, literature that doesn’t challenge societal norms should be incinerated or else it will reduce your morals to ashes. And art that doesn’t cater to the moral, intellectual, and spiritual needs of the society should be incarcerated or else it will detain your existence in the chains of slavery. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Truly unbiased poetry is the biased one. If poetry can’t amplify the sidelined voices and silenced narratives, it should be choked to death before it asphyxiates human civilization. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Poetry must strangle some narratives. Art must choke some ideals. ~ Sadia Hakim

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I want to write poems brave enough to crush the hollow ones. I want to create art that is not obedient. People should remember my pen as a rebellious soul. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Great poetry takes a stand, because all poetry is rooted in a perspective. Poetry is inherently subjective, so it can’t remain neutral or nonpartisan. The struggle is to side with what’s true. The hardest part of writing poetry isn’t choosing a side, but choosing the side of truth even if that truth is uncomfortable, personal, or goes against popular opinion. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Art is never uninfluenced, so it can’t be detached from human emotions. I laugh when people ask me to create impartial art. What makes you think I am impartial? What makes you believe I have no inner voice and a moral compass? What makes you think my knowledge, understanding and experiences in life, about life, haven’t actively shaped my heart and soul? An artist, even if is impartial, can not create impartial art. That’s the irony of being. That’s the paradox of creating. That’s the mockery of living.

And no one can escapes that. Your very idea of art and literature being neutral is biased. You have come to this conclusion after being acceptable of certain things and unappreciative of others. Aren’t you? So, my dear, don’t you think, I too am an alive human milled between the two rotars and stators of life? If you want unbiased poetry, prompt an AI tool, because I can’t fulfil your desires. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Art must do something to your heart. Art must stir your soul. It must break some patterns. It must hinder some flows. It must disturb the energy levels of some electrons in the atoms of your bones, and for art to be able to do so, it must come from the heart of a person who knows the importance of partiality and disposition.

For art to save people from destroying, it must bias with some values and speak against others. It must come from the ink of a pen that can draw a fine line between what’s right and what’s normalized as right despite being utterly and outrageously wrong. ~ Sadia Hakim

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My poetry is political? Yes, because I know whose side I am on. Clarity of morals is very important if you claim to be a human in this ugly world. There’s nothing like unbiased poetry and unbiased art. Poetry must align with some values and detest others. That’s the whole purpose of creating art and writing poems.

To stay unbiased when the world is morally and ethically struggling to maintain a balance is nothing but a delusion, a placebo of superiority catering to the falsely presented version of humanity and empathy. ~ Sadia Hakim

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Read about Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy: The broken heart syndrome here.

Read about the irony of being a being by Sadia Hakim here.

Read about “I have my madness” by Sadia Hakim here.

Broken hearts and shattered souls can end lives, scientifically speaking…

Quote ~ ~ Sadia Hakim ~ 8 Comments

I am a human, and a poet, and a pracititioner. Let me tell you that you can die from a broken heart. There is this thing called takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It’s emotional or physical stress-induced cardiomyopathy.

Emotional trauma / death / loss of someone or something / domestic abuse / financial loss / confrontation whether physical or verbal between people with opposing views / some goodbyes / even social anxiety can trigger it.

So when people say they have sharp pain inside their chest over something emotional — something that might seem trivial or normal to you, but it’s not a heart attack either, please believe their pain.

Please, believe them when they have shortness of breath. Believe them when they feel dizzy, even if it looks like they are just ignoring you while you are shouting at them. Believe them when their heart starts racing. Believe them when they start sweating about something that doesn’t make sense to you.

Please, believe that it’s a life-or-death situation for them. Believe that a broken heart can lead to a heart attack, and to death.Or sometimes, just to silence. To sitting very still. To breathing carefully because everything hurts. Believe that too. People aren’t making things out of nothing. And the pain and trauma are not just psychological. Even if it is just in their heads, please, believe that even overthinking can kill people. Anything that impacts the brain does something biologically and genetically to people.

Please, believe people and let them breathe when they are stressed about a presentation, a party, a meeting, a job interview, a marriage proposal, a friendship breakup, a relationship end, a fight with siblings, or the loss of a parent. They say death is rare with takotsubo cardiomyopathy in textbooks, but the thing is, life happens outside these textbooks.

I have seen people die over “grow past it” and “it happens with everyone,” “chill, it’s life,” and “others have it worse” kinds of things. I have seen people die over confessions, or not being able to confess their emotions. I have seen people die because of taunts for not performing well in exams. I have seen people die because a toxic manager insulted them in front of their colleagues due to personal grudges and office politics.

Heartbreaks and heartaches are real, and they weaken heart muscles. They can trigger cardiac arrest. They can end someone’s life.

— Sadia Hakim

Read more here.

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I am not easy to be with but I am someone to be human with

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I don’t write this for sympathy. I write it because sometimes the truth needs a place to breathe.

I am not an easy person. Not in the ways that most people hope for. I overthink every word I say and every silence that follows. I replay conversations that happened five years ago, wondering if I came across as too much or not enough. I am constantly second-guessing myself, walking on the edges of connection because closeness both comforts and terrifies me.

I have spent a lot of my life navigating a world that does not quite make sense to me. As someone who is neurodivergent, introverted, and living with cPTSD, I have become painfully aware that my brain doesn’t work the way most people expect it to. I feel everything, all at once, all the time. And it’s exhausting.There are days when my mind feels like a maze I can’t escape. Thoughts spiral. Emotions crash without warning. I feel everything at full volume, even when I am trying to seem quiet, calm, composed.

I pick up on tones, shifts, glances — things people don’t say. And it gets loud in here. So loud I can’t always hear myself over the noise. I am not easy to understand. I overthink until I collapse. I replay conversations in my head like broken, haunted records. I analyze silence, words, actions, intentions, body language, and pauses. I pick up on things no one else notices, and sometimes I misread everything anyway. I constantly question whether I’m being too much, too intense, too sensitive, or just not enough.

I live in patterns and hyper-awareness. I scan the world for safety without realizing it, because somewhere along the way, my nervous system got rewired for survival. So if I seem distant, withdrawn, or if I disappear for a while, it’s never about you. It’s my way of resetting, of remembering how to be in a world that overwhelms me more than it should.

I’ve been hurt. Not just by people, but by silence, by abandonment, by moments that should have been safe and weren’t. I’ve been shaped by trauma in ways even I don’t fully understand yet. I’ve had to be my own anchor in storms that no one saw. There are days I disappear. Not because I don’t care, but because I need to find my center again. Just to function. Just to survive my own thoughts. People say I’m distant sometimes, or cold, but what they don’t see is the storm inside, the way I freeze when I’m overwhelmed. The way I withdraw when my nervous system says, this isn’t safe, even if everything seems fine on the outside. I’ve had to be hypervigilant for so long that my body flinches at calm because calm never used to mean safe. Sometimes, the quiet is where the worst things happened.

I self-sabotage because part of me doesn’t believe I deserve good things or people. I push away before I can be pushed. I doubt if anyone would ever love me beyond surface. I test people without meaning to, just to see if they’ll stay. And when they don’t, it confirms what I already fear, that I am too much, or maybe not enough. I am wrecked but I find a certain kind of peace afer people betray me.

I walk through the world with a bleeding heart under layers of armor I never asked to wear. I have abandonment wounds that ache in silence. Triggers I can’t always explain. And grief for things I never got to fully process. So yes, I require patience. I require space to decompress. I need reassurance more than I’d like to admit. I need safe love. Gentle love. Consistent love. Because chaos feels familiar, but I’m trying so hard not to live there anymore.

But despite all of that, I love with everything I have. When I care, it’s not halfway. It’s full presence. It’s remembering little details. It’s staying when most would walk away. It’s giving you the last piece of my peace even when I’m running on empty. I will hold your hand through your darkest days even if I can’t find the light myself. I’m not low-maintenance. I require patience, gentleness, honesty.

But I will give you the most honest version of myself if you give me the space to be it. I will show up raw and real. I will tell you the truth, even if it shakes in my voice. I don’t know how to love lightly, I never have. I only know how to love in all the ways I wish I had been loved.

I am not perfect. I repeat words without intending to. I have scars that still ache, triggers I can’t always predict, and days where everything feels like too much. But I am trying. I am learning to believe that healing is possible even if it’s not linear.

I am learning that I can be messy and still be worthy. Broken and still beautiful. Hard to understand and still lovable. My heart is pure, even if it’s scarred. My intentions are real, even when my delivery is messy. I might struggle with trust, but once I give it, I am all in. I don’t know how to love halfway. I only know how to love with my whole, chaotic, cracked, but fiercely beating heart. I fight for people until I have nothing left to give.

And even when I walk away, a part of me still hopes. So if you want easy, I am not it. I won’t pretend to be. But I am real. I am honest. I am someone who feels deeply and cares relentlessly. Someone who is still learning how to live without armor, still trying to believe I am not “too much” for the right people.

So if you want real, honest, loyal, flawed, and fiercely human, then maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who can love you in a way most people never will.

Sadia Hakim

Broken hearts and shattered souls can end lives. Read here about my science-infused write-up about this situation.

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I am afraid I will die but my body will not. Sadia Hakim

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Will I stop stargazing and moon gazing? Or will I become more addicted to them? I asked myself while thinking about being tied to the wrong person, trapped in the wrong version of life.

Will I still be able to cherish the first flower in my planter? Will I still be able to cherish rain? Will I still love cooking? Or will the constant taunts and the lack of recognition for my effort make me give up on this hobby?

This is what I thought might happen. This is what I think does happen when you’re trapped with the wrong person, in the wrong family. The things that once were your escape become a burden. You forget what it feels like to be human.

It might happen to me. So for now, I’m spending more time with the moon. I’m binge-watching more and more anime. I’m doing more of what I would have loved doing for the rest of my life, because that life now seems impossible. A masked, fake l, suffocating life is waiting ahead.

The truth is I am scared. I am afraid I will live but my soul will die. I am afraid, I am afraid my heart will pump blood but won’t survive its truth. I am afraid I will be just a body, nothing else, nothing more.

I am afraid I will die but this body will live. What a terrible death! What a horrible life!

Sadia Hakim

Join my ARC Team – Get an early edition of my books for FREE!

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Hey lovely readers,

I’m officially opening up applications for my ARC Team (Advanced Reader Copy Team). This is your chance to get early access to my upcoming nontraditional, poetic nonfiction book before it’s released to the public.

If you’re passionate about raw, real writing, the kind that peels back the layers of life, love, grief, healing, and everything in between, I would love to have you on board.

What You’ll Get:

  • An early copy of my book (digital or possibly paperback if you’re in Pakistan)
  • Behind-the-scenes sneak peeks before the title and cover are even announced
  • A chance to be part of my publishing journey from the start
  • Occasional follow-ups (promise, I won’t spam) to remind you gently about review deadlines

ARC Application is Open For 1–2 Weeks Only

Depending on the response (and let’s be real, also my mental health), I’ll close the form once spots are filled.

Link to sign up

Please note: by joining, you’re giving consent for me to use your email to send the ARC and up to 3 follow-up emails related to the book’s release and review period.

This is also the start of something bigger. I plan to create an ARC series — so if you’re reading this later, hello future reader! You might have missed this ARC, but don’t worry. New ones are always coming. Keep checking this blog or follow me on Instagram stay in the loop.

Thank you for supporting indie authors. It means more than you know.

Sadia Hakim

I have my madness like any other human

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Every sane person bleeds somewhere you can’t see. Some drown in routine, some in silence, some in love that never loved them back. Every sane person has their own madness, every healed person has their own wars, every wounded person has their own scars.

As for me, please remember that I am a sane woman, but I have my madness.

On the surface, I appear rational, composed, and in control — the way society expects. But beneath that, I carry my own storms, obsessions, flaws, passions, and emotional intensity. My “madness” isn’t something to fear, it’s part of my truth, my depth, my humanity. It’s what makes me whole, not broken. But people apparently fear depth and authenticity.

I have my own madness, just like the sun that shines despite rainy clouds, just like the storm that moves through sunshine, just like the wildflowers that grow despite the harsh weather, just like the leaves playing on the wall with their shadows in spring.

I have my madness, like you, like any other human, like any other monster. There are things you need to tame in me; there is a wild you need to get along with. I am wilderness worth gardens. I am a garden protected by thorns.

The wilderness in my heart is worth a thousand gardens. The garden in my heart is worth a thousand wilds. I have my madness, just like the sun, just like the storm. I am a madman. I am a lunatic person. I am an untamed heart. I am a wild soul. I am an uncaged beast. I am a free human.

Sadia Hakim

Sadia Hakim

Read more here.

If tomorrow the sun rises without me — the irony of being a being

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If tomorrow the sun rises without me in its world, let me tell you today: the wind will still roam. The birds will still sing. Nothing changes in this world, but let me tell you, something will.

If tomorrow the sun rises without me, you won’t see the shift with your eyes. Clocks will tick the same, and coffee will still steam in morning cups. But we are entangled, you and me, me and this world, like notes in a chord stretched across time.

Something would happen to this universe. If tomorrow comes without me, the gravity will shift, quietly, like a room noticing it’s been left. Matter and antimatter will realign, unsure of what they’re missing, only that something once pulsed between them.

Stars might blink a second too long, and black holes might hum low with memory. The cosmos keeps moving, but not without cost.

If tomorrow the sun rises without me, you may not feel it on your skin, but the laws will know that something has gone missing. And somewhere, in the dark, the universe will groan, just a little.

The winds will shift, but you won’t notice. The earth will tremble, but it’ll be so small, so quiet, you’ll think it’s just a breath in the air. Something will have gone, and you’ll feel it in the way your heart races at nothing, in the way your thoughts catch on empty spaces, like the universe is still reaching for something it can’t remember.

But no one will know. Not really. The world will keep turning, oblivious to the rift. The stars will continue to burn, their light unfurling into the void, unaware that something broke, something no one can name.

And in that silence, the universe will continue, rearranging itself in ways too small to notice, yet too large to ignore. Everything shifts when one part of the pattern slips away.

If tomorrow the sun rises without me, it won’t be the same.

— Sadia Hakim

Rare love takes time