Haven’t slept all night. No amount of crying brings comfort or even a semblance of catharsis. My heart aches uncontrollably. Thank you for your warm messages and solidarity with Pakistan. It helps in so many ways.

Given how utterly disrespected and taken-for-granted Pakistani life is, regardless of age, I can predict the timeline ahead on my social media. It wounds, it numbs. I already work in a field where my nationality is a subject of speculation; the death of my brothers and sisters merely statistics; our loss is described in terms of political strategy; no one remembers we dream too, we weep too. Before the 126 martyred Pakistanis - children being the majority killed - are reduced to mere talking points and statistics, I’d like to save myself from further desensitization and deactivate for a bit. Several days, since no amount of a hiatus will put a rescue wall between me and the conversations people will shove my way in the coming days. “What do you think of Islam then?” “Don’t you think torture is necessary now?” “America should extend its presence in Pakistan.” And more. It bruises, it suffocates.

But if you can, when you see someone opine that these children in Pakistan were killed for “going to school”, please remember that the violence in my motherland is not so black and white, that extremist factions avenge state incursions by taking the lives of the innocent, that our stories deserve not to be essentialized, that it is heartbreaking to carry the infinite weight of a child’s coffin but it is even more agonizing to hear your pain become a convenient, incorrect story for a global audience itching for the next breaking story. In solidarity, if you can, tell our stories according to our terms. Say our names, our children’s names, and please - please - do not forget us.

Do not forget us.