Escaping 2023

A memoir written in 2025, about sisterhood, grief, love, loss, dreams and longing.

In 2023, the world didn’t end, but mine quietly cracked in two. It began the day on August 29th, 2023. My sister left for a scholarship abroad to continue her studies. I can’t even believe I even dreamed the night before of sleeping and never waking up early in the morning; I just didn’t want to get separated from her. She for me is like an 8-year-older twin, and I’ve been really thankful for what she has done for me. In my family I’ve been the closest to her. She and I had a bond most people could just wish they had, and perhaps I believe maybe the enviousness of people could have made us separated. The day she left chasing a dream was the day I kind of died, as I never actually believed she’d have to one day leave me, though she left and had achieved her freedom, and I was so happy for her but at the same time crying badly because of the separation, but the thing is our bond was unbreakable, always has been and always will be! She and I are like two faces of the same coin; she’s my other half, the yin to my yang, my partner in crime, my bestie sister, my twin soul, my mentor, my second mother, my rock, my 8-years-older twin, the lone wolf who’d only pair up with me to be a whole. A bond anyone would want to have, I stayed strong and wished time would pass soon. Her decision was indeed selfless and benefited us both, but the thing is life is tragic, and for some benefits, life demands sacrifices from us, and this time the sacrifice was our beautiful bond’s separation. The time was so hard for me; I never had a best friend, and I never tried making one because she is my everything.

Early morning at 5:30 am on 29th August, a gloomy yet a happy day, and I spoke to myself, “Time has come.” We woke up, did our routine, and went to the airport, as she’ll be leaving for her 6 am flight. She got her PhD scholarship, and she is about to embark on a dream we always wished for; it’s a dream she always whispered to me, and we used to hold hands and yearned for it together. She waved, smiled, and disappeared into a dream where I couldn’t follow, at least not yet. Our bond is more precious than gold or any bond on earth. The day she left for a better future, my heart has craved only one dream, an endless yearning to be with her once more. As soon as I came back home from the airport, I cried my eyes out. I thought I would never continue without her. I was always an introverted and well-reserved person, and I would always come crying back to her from school. She’d always strengthen me, but now she won’t be there. I knew I had to get up and stand tall, dream big, and stop acting like I have lost her completely, because I didn’t. I remember how badly I cried in front of my pet budgies, the gift she gave me before going abroad. The pet budgies are our beautiful bond symbol; we bought them together, and she gave me those little angels as a gift so I won’t be alone when she’s gone. I cried intensely, wishing her phantom arms could hug me. I didn’t tell this story to anyone; I’m actually glad I’m writing a memoir about it. There are a lot of beautiful things I recall doing with her, but if I start enlisting them, of course this memoir would turn into a novel, but anyways, I’m still gonna enlist them. We used to do almost each and every thing together, sleeping together and sharing a room and living not like ordinary sisters who fight and hate each other; we lived happily. When I was a kid, she used to play with me with my dolls in a dollhouse; watch good shows with me; explore rock bands and anime, movies, and everything good; play video games all day; study together; cook together; dream together; and do house chores together. She and I, with our creativity, always escaped in a dream realm of our art, stories, and interests that we’d wish not to come back to reality; that was our safe haven. The silence after she left wasn’t just around me, it seeped into me. I kept imagining her chair pulled back at the dining table, her empty glass, the soft clink of her teacup, the echo of a laugh, her soft hugs, and the sweet scent we used to share over things only we understood. I used to tell her everything. Even the smallest, most meaningless things, like what I dreamt of, or what character I drew that day. With her gone, my words had nowhere to land. I sketched her face from memory, sometimes so often that I started forgetting if I’d drawn her or dreamed her. The longing didn’t go away. It settled into me like fog: soft, constant, blinding. She was the first person for whom I wrote my first poem.

This was the picture I edited for the cover of this memoir on my portfolio display.

After that I didn’t quite recover; I still yearn and long to be with her. My soul will be at peace when I’m back with her. To escape, I found relief in my creative pursuits. I sketched almost every day because I found peace and almost did. I found refuge in unreal worlds. When I couldn’t bear the weight of the day, I slipped into video games; it was like a portal to the world of dreams for me. In those pixels, I could become someone else, braver, stronger, and freer. Video games have always helped me fantasize and imagine more; I sketched characters from video games.

My imagination and dreams became a portal. I imagined lovers I’d never meet, created stories that gave me peace, wrote my poetry, and worked on my novel; I read inspirational books. My pets were my quiet companions, warm bodies who never asked questions but just gave me so much relief. They didn’t fill the silence, but they softened it. I wrote about other versions of myself, ones who had already escaped, who lived far away, under softer skies, where grief didn’t follow.

But just as I was learning to breathe without her, little did I know, another loss was waiting for me. On December 31st at 2am I received a phone call: “Your father has passed away due to a cardiac arrest. Tomorrow is funeral” was meant to be a reset. The last day I would never hear my father’s voice. I was devastated, ruined, and almost thought of giving up forever; just after 3 months of my sister’s departure abroad, my father passed away. A new year, a fresh chapter. Instead, it became a burden and fell heavy on my chest. This was the toughest time of my life, and trust it wasn’t better before either; my father was separated from my mother, and it was like 2 years since he was not on good terms with us.

Death has a way of feeling like a myth until it happens. It doesn’t shout; it whispers. And when it does, it changes everything.

I remember the moment too vividly. The suddenness. The helplessness. And the cruel irony of a world celebrating as mine was falling apart. Outside, people cheered into the new year. Inside, we wept in silence. And I only had my mother and brother by my side, grieving badly; I didn’t know how to hold that much sadness. I still don’t. And not just that, my exam was in a week; I thought I wouldn’t progress. I sat in the final examination and passed all the subjects, getting straight A’s. As I hit the 3.4 CGPA, I worked hard to make my dreams real.

I displayed a happy face, a mask that I’m fine, but I wasn’t. I needed help desperately. I didn’t share anything with anyone; getting separated from two family members in a year was devastating. Of course, I felt suicidal and immensely depressed, but the dream voice inside me that has been my companion since birth yearned, “I didn’t come this far to sink so low. Keep the faith and fly away; stay strong, you can’t die before all your dreams come true! You need to find a way out.” So I stood taller and dreamt more; I dreamt of a different life, one where I could leave, start fresh, create without fear, and be surrounded by people who understood me. I still dream of that. 2023 didn’t break me. It revealed me. It stripped everything down until only the rawest parts of me were left: the love I carry, the pain I survived, and the dreams that refuse to die. My sister and I, though the distance made us apart, still share a bond unbroken, no matter how far we’re apart. It’s a bond made in heaven, and I’ll do anything to catch my dreams and bring them to life. The bonds made in heaven are eternal, and no force on earth can break them. Similarly, even if you lose a loved one, life never ends; hold onto the faith and your dreams and stay strong, stand tall. Even in my darkest days in 2023, when I thought I was failing at my career building and I was failing in my personal life, the embarrassment of sharing it all because it’d make me look vulnerable and weak made me start crying my eyes out. But I gathered myself, and that’s my God, my sister. My dreams and hopes, my creative pursuits that made me alive—I’m so grateful for that. In 2023, when this tragedy happened to me, I thought I’d never be able to live through 2024, but here I am, living in 2025, writing and telling a story about 2023. I’m so grateful to God for everything. I feel like I’ve risen up again from a magic flower of light in a magic diamond; my creative powers will now shine brighter than any diamond. Allah has given me these dreams and a beautiful imagination, and I know He will make me flourish. Always be ready to stand up for the dreams you have because that’s what I did in my darkest days.

P.S So this is a memoir I wrote for my creative writing portfolio. At that time I was writing my novel 1, and it was on 50 k words. And in the upcoming summer vacation, I completed it at 100 k words. And now, in 2026, still breathing thanks to God. Almost graduating, I have two novel manuscripts and a poetry book draft. I remember when I wrote this, I cried, and it was truly a tough time; I’m still not fully healed from it. Still working on it. And I love my sister so much. She’s the biggest inspiration behind all my words. All my books will be dedicated to her. And of course, I still miss my father; losing two family members in a year was too hard. And not only that. In 2025 I lost several pets. One little budgie, the one my sister bought me before leaving abroad. and several cats: Moonie, Suzy, Tony, and Terri. It was so hard. So hard. But I somehow found a way out. And I want my future self to read this and feel proud of who she has become. All the sacrifices she made, all the pain she went through. A poetic pulse that beats through her chest, and she must remember God is near her always; He’s closer to her than a jugular vein. And she’s never, never alone. I hope this memoir makes you grasp how bad it is to give up, because life awaits us and our future selves will always be proud of the things we accomplished and the grief we went through. Please never give up on your dreams. I love you all. I hope future Dua reads this at some point in her life and knows how much she is loved by all the people she lost and all the pets she lost.

With love,

Dua

xoxo