If you were to meet me, the first thing you would probably notice is that my sense of sight is lacking. As a child, my eyesight began to deteriorate, and as the progression of my visual impairment continued to worsen, I turned to my creative instincts to fill the void. Spending countless hours adorned in Victorian gowns, I was intrigued by the fact that I did not need to physically visualize its beauty. Running my hand across the faux taffeta silk, stumbling upon each bead that was inlaid into the crevices of the fabric, gave off a sensation that was enough for me to comprehend the elegance of each gown. And with each gown emerged a new personality, polar to my own, that created a completely different world: the world of my imagination. It is in this place that I am able to express the emotions that consume my thoughts; it is uniquely my own, and, for that, it is where I feel an utter sense of satisfaction.
From an early age, my parents encouraged my dress-up habits. Born into extremely conservative households, both my mother and father were forced to oppress any creative tendencies they possessed. Regardless of their liberal parenting, I, too, was expected to subdue my world of imagination. Although I was born in America, I spent most of my childhood, without the guidance of my parents, living in Pakistan during a time when political upheaval caused many of its civilians to become fearful of expressing unorthodox ideas.
However, behind the closed doors of my grandmother's one-room apartment, I found an outlet for my world. My imagination was unrestricted from the barrier that I was compelled to uphold in public. Despite the residence being large, the only things inside it were a queen-sized bed, a nightstand ornamented with just a lamp, and a bucket that served as our bathroom. Yet, due to my poor eyesight, I saw the room in a much more favorable perspective. I had never even noticed the chipping wallpaper nor the termite infested wood floor that my grandmother often complained about. As my imagination reopened to compensate for my lack of vision, I forged the apartment into a safe haven for the various personalities found in the depths of my mind. Draped in a floral curtain, I became Lady Jasmine, the daughter of the Duke of Lahore (a prominent city in Pakistan), cordial and submissive in nature. As the realm of my imagination morphed again, the apartment turned into a saloon and my sandals into distressed cowboy boots; I, Nadia, epitomized an independent and unyielding spirit from the American Wild West.
With the fabrication of each new personality, the world of my imagination has become a source of expressing thoughts and ideas that would have been relatively dormant otherwise. It is in this place that I am able to communicate to myself who I really am as Fatima Khan. In some respects I am reflected by Jasmine's need for order, while in others Nadia conveys the more unconventional aspects of my actual personality. As I constantly reopen this world, I am reminded that being quirky and creative prompts a sense of fulfillment within me that ultimately fills the void caused by my lack of vision. It is here that I am not only true to myself, but I am also able to learn so much more about my personality that is hidden from others, and, for that reason, the world of my imagination is where I feel absolute contentment.
From an early age, my parents encouraged my dress-up habits. Born into extremely conservative households, both my mother and father were forced to oppress any creative tendencies they possessed. Regardless of their liberal parenting, I, too, was expected to subdue my world of imagination. Although I was born in America, I spent most of my childhood, without the guidance of my parents, living in Pakistan during a time when political upheaval caused many of its civilians to become fearful of expressing unorthodox ideas.
However, behind the closed doors of my grandmother's one-room apartment, I found an outlet for my world. My imagination was unrestricted from the barrier that I was compelled to uphold in public. Despite the residence being large, the only things inside it were a queen-sized bed, a nightstand ornamented with just a lamp, and a bucket that served as our bathroom. Yet, due to my poor eyesight, I saw the room in a much more favorable perspective. I had never even noticed the chipping wallpaper nor the termite infested wood floor that my grandmother often complained about. As my imagination reopened to compensate for my lack of vision, I forged the apartment into a safe haven for the various personalities found in the depths of my mind. Draped in a floral curtain, I became Lady Jasmine, the daughter of the Duke of Lahore (a prominent city in Pakistan), cordial and submissive in nature. As the realm of my imagination morphed again, the apartment turned into a saloon and my sandals into distressed cowboy boots; I, Nadia, epitomized an independent and unyielding spirit from the American Wild West.
With the fabrication of each new personality, the world of my imagination has become a source of expressing thoughts and ideas that would have been relatively dormant otherwise. It is in this place that I am able to communicate to myself who I really am as Fatima Khan. In some respects I am reflected by Jasmine's need for order, while in others Nadia conveys the more unconventional aspects of my actual personality. As I constantly reopen this world, I am reminded that being quirky and creative prompts a sense of fulfillment within me that ultimately fills the void caused by my lack of vision. It is here that I am not only true to myself, but I am also able to learn so much more about my personality that is hidden from others, and, for that reason, the world of my imagination is where I feel absolute contentment.
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