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Have a seat on this armchair, my endearing analyst

Have a seat on this armchair, my endearing analyst

I am a disappointment.


I am, also, always disappointed. Through the weary seas, winter chills, and inconspicuous demons that haunt us, there is a meagre light at the end of the tunnel. If one were to follow the unbeaten road and follow such a light, all they will find is me — disappointed, again. It is a little sad, now that one ponders over it, but it is who I am. Kindly, do deal with it.


To start with, I am disappointed in society. It doesn’t accept change. Instead, it beats change down to a pulp until the aforementioned change makes a case to never come back. The public demands that everyone conform to their view of normalcy, and if one doesn’t, they are shunned and ostracized. Sadly, the word “tolerance” is as much of a buzzword as “100% Organic”. It is a compelling illustration of our ideals when the poor and vulnerable are left alone by us whilst we complain about the kleptocracy above us. It is a terrible society, I want nothing to do with it, and I want to leave it.

Along the same lines, I am disappointed in my friends. Oh, dear Claire (names and scenario may or may not be real), why didn’t you meet me behind IGIS when I asked you to? You said you had an exam to prepare for and a society’s interview to take, but you took so long that I’m sure that all you did was hang out with your terrible friends and their nice shirts! Perhaps I should have been more considerate and made excuses for you, which would have been a nice thing for me to do, especially since I don’t even have evidence of you ditching me. However, I don’t make excuses for people. How dare you expect me to do such a heinous act? I’d rather just assume the worst.

After all, I am disappointed in myself. Once we take the last 310 words into consideration, I have considered that I am a prick. A cynical, misanthropic prick. There is little ounce of social responsibility in my heart — I dream of running away to a far-off land where roses grow on cacti so that I can enjoy myself, despite doing nothing for the land I ran from. With my lack of empathy comes a lack of sympathy which drones in with my inability to make excuses for my friends. (I’m sorry, Claire.)  I am sitting here in my armchair, spurning my population and confidants, when I am a part of them and have not contributed to any sort of betterment. Perhaps I can take myself to the last time I ignored a charity drive because I didn’t prioritize it, ignored a phone call because “I just didn’t feel like it” or verbally hurt someone amongst a group of friends without thinking that it may not have been “just a joke”. Fair it is, to say that I do not think that I am a very good person.


There is no seat for a do-nothing armchair analyst. There is, nevertheless, a seat for those who become the change they want to see. Until I make the effort to change my ways, my perceptions, and my behaviour, there can only be one conclusion.


I am the disappointment.


About The Author

Muhammad Shaafay Saqib

When I’m not overthinking, I spend my time trying my best to read more books, trying not to waste too much time, and figuring out what part of this campus I have not explored yet. I tend to have fun doing that, too, thankfully enough.