ocio-political chaos is a staple in Pakistan, but like many others, I usually stay indifferent to most news headlines across the media. For me these are just pieces of text I get to read or videos I happen to watch while doom-scrolling.

Your cup is already full. How can you keep it from spilling over? How much can you take till your cup overflows? That’s what I always thought to myself. But this time it was different. Rather, it felt different. It was bigger and it was explosive — quite literally.

On Tuesday last, a stream of pictures and videos on social media threw the reality in my face. There was a nationwide violent display of pent-up bitterness, resentment and pure hatred. I saw buildings being burnt that I’d pass by every other day. I saw houses badly damaged where I had spent hours with my friends bantering and having pizza. It all felt way closer to home this time and, hence, more threatening.

My mind was jolted back to the time when Covid-19 was at its peak. We used to stay at home, warning others against leaving their houses, advising people to be careful, checking up on loved ones if they and their families were okay, afraid to step out, imagining the worst was happening in the streets.

And then there are people around you who’re always spewing views and emotions. Either it was pure dismay over what was happening or it was sadistic pleasure for Imran Khan’s “reckoning.” And, in the middle of it all, I was thinking when will this be over?

A stream of pictures and videos on social media threw the reality right in my face. There was a nationwide violent display of pent-up bitterness, resentment and pure hatred. It all felt way closer to home this time and, hence, more threatening.

All my political views went out the window. I just wanted the violence to stop. Destruction and brutality, for a moment, felt like these could continue for a long time, and that’s what scared me the most.

And it still could. The uncertainty of what comes after this is across the horizon. No one knows what will happen despite the predictions, arguments and discussions. As I write this, I don’t know if I can safely step out of my house tomorrow and resume normal life. Even if I can, I’m not looking forward to the scars the city has been left with. How much damage will I see, I’m not sure.

Part of me wants to step out too, so that I can break the delusional bubble I’ve constructed for myself sitting in the comfort of my home to shield myself from anything negative. For so long, I’ve been afforded the luxury to remain ‘desensitised’ to the depressing news cycle, brushing it off and refocusing on my life, my goals, my lunch, the Netflix show episode I paused, my Spotify playlist, my game night with friends... The news never felt personal because I was never directly affected by it. Clearly, that ‘privilege’ is stark to me now. Because on that day, for the first time, it felt like the chaos could easily reach my doorstep.

The author is a freelance content writer