Tag Archives: confusion

The Struggle Within

The pain that followed the punch was unbelievable, it coursed through the child’s body as every part of him screamed for attention. The boy was hunched over gasping for breath. He shook but not in fear nor in anger but in misery. The being that hovered above him was just a shadow, a huge dark unclear silhouette, which just ignored the boy’s existence.

Determination set in the boy’s shoulders as he straightened and looked into the shadow’s unclear face, managing to fuel its anger again. It jerked and took a step back in confusion before it attacked again with a forceful slap across the boy’s face. Stoic, the boy said nothing as he fell to the ground. Silence descended within the abyss they are in, only the heavy angry breaths of the silhouette was audible.

It didn’t take long before the child became determined again, refusing to be ignored. The child stood but instead of a boy, it was a girl. She sniffled and wiped her tears off her black and blue face, her eyes filled with willpower as she stared into the silhouette’s face. It didn’t take long before it kicked the girl, and her body flew far away before it hit the ground. Her body fell lifeless and the shadow grew restless. It walked around mumbling, unable to fathom what was going on as she began to move and gain her strength again. As she stood her body changed and grew into that of a man.

The man stood and limped his way towards the shadow. When he was close enough he lifted his eyes and stared at its face. The silhouette was already prepared, and the moment the man looked at him, it punched him. The sound of a breaking rib echoed through the abyss, and so did the sound of a screaming man. Groaning, the man’s body began shifting into a more slender form.

A woman instead was holding her side, groaning in pain as she began to roll over to get on her feet. Barely able to stand up straight, the woman looked straight ahead at the shadow. She was prepared for what was to come. It didn’t take long before the silhouette slapped her and punched her till she fell to the ground. Motionless, the woman’s body curled and shifted into a shadow.

The silhouette in anger and confusion screamed, as it slowly dropped to its knees on the ground next to the unmoving shadow. It didn’t want to see them nor acknowledge them. It didn’t want to do this over and over again. They wouldn’t leave it alone in ignorance, because they wanted to be seen and accepted and that is the constant inner struggle that we have within our own abyss.

If I knew

If I knew where I’m going, I would take what I need and what I’ve always wanted but never had the courage to claim.

If I knew where I’m going, I would spit all those comebacks and justifications that I chose then never to reveal for the sake of propriety or what I thought  was right.

If I knew where I’m going, I would pack lightly, practically, and forsake what was once dragging me behind.

If I knew where I’m going, I would slip out quietly, for once giving up the desire for attention that I desperately sought before.

If I knew where I’m going, I would only look back once ..as tribute for a life once lived.

If I knew where I’m going, I would bottle their laughter, puns and silly jokes

I would box all their unexpected hugs, their knowing nudges, and comfort touches.

If I knew where I’m going I would leave at once, and Leave the mess to be dealt with by someone else.

If I knew where I’m going, I would walk surely, steadily and calmly knowing I no longer, need my thoughts filtered, my expression hidden nor do I need to change the subject anymore,

I would finally stop deflecting.

If I was just sure of where I’m going I would finally be OK

If only I knew where I’m going.

Deadline

the-melting-watch

Deadline to succeed

Deadline to get there

Deadline to make it

Deadline to break down

Deadline to love

Deadline to live

Deadline to breath

Deadline to let go

Deadline to laugh

Deadline to cry

Deadline to try in order to be let down

Deadline to wake up

Deadline to rest

Make up your mind

Quickly now there’s not time

We have to meet the deadline

Briskly walk ,talk, hug and kiss

Deadline to think

Could I be saved

Untamed, let loose

Chase and fumble

Carefree with no deadlins to chain me

As I write, I note

There goes another deadline I meet

Week Eight – Giving In To The Whispers part 3

She was walking in the hallway when she “felt” it. Something inside her was drawing her towards it. She went to grab a chair, got on it, and moved her fingers over it; there it was, the only evidence, the dent that her little… she couldn’t think of the word to describe it; little “mishap” maybe, has done.

Continue reading Week Eight – Giving In To The Whispers part 3

The Day I Killed Hypocrisy

As a Muslim I have been forced to do things and react to things in a certain way. The worst part is that it’s not because the religion is oppressive but because people are. In any society you learn at an early age that you must fit in or else you’ll be in one way or another considered an outsider.  When you are born, in any society, everything is chosen and readily planned for you, they choose your name, your religion, and your identity, and eventually they’ll shape your thoughts. They set the criteria and you are expected to stay within it.

I decided to wear the veil at the age of twelve; I was expected to cover my hair and body the moment I reached puberty. To many it may sound bizarre, but this was part of our religion. Many would also think it is oppressive, but anything in life is a choice and people, including parents, tend to take that choice away. I was one of the lucky ones; my parents didn’t like the idea of me wearing the veil at such a young age. They even refused when I suggested it, telling me I had to be more religiously responsible to take such a step. I never understood that, but I decided I will start with the basic everyday five prayers, which caught my parents’ attention and by the age of twelve, they agreed to let me wear it. My mom’s eyes watered with pride and my father called me from abroad, simply, to tell me how proud he was and to give me advice on how to handle myself from that point on. I was so convinced and truly believed that it was the right path, who would have known I would take it off eight years later.

I have always been too mature and philosophical for my age, I wanted to grow up so quickly and take as many responsibilities as possible. My parents would travel and leave my brothers for me to supervise and care for, and that built, I guess, my maternal instincts. My brothers don’t just look at me as a sister but also as a mother, which I take great pride in. I was an introvert, preferred to stay indoors and only socialized with my family members. I had only two friends and that was perfectly fine by me. I would huddle in my room and read book after book, losing myself to the worlds they showed me. I lived my life through these books. I was a princess, an elf, a man, a joker, a knight, a wolf, a vampire, or anything I wished to be. I could go anywhere I want to, it was like the door to limitless and different worlds. Even though most of my readings were of novels, but they taught me so much and one of them was the reason I started on this journey.

The way people spoke of God was in a very fearful way, they speak of Him as if He were the boogeyman. The way I portrayed God was that He knew nothing but destruction, if I sinned his wrath will find me and I will be cursed for life. I will be thrown in the deep pits of hell and burn over and over again. So I became so scared of life and living, I mean why should I when everything has a possibility to anger God or could be considered a sin. Strangely, this train of thought led me to start doubting God’s existence, which when I voiced, of course, was told that these thoughts were whispers of the devil. It was the devil trying to pull me to the wrongful path and doubt. This made my life a bit more complicated, I stopped voicing my questions because the replies were always the same, I would have been happier if people and my family told me that they didn’t know the answers. It would have made much more sense then, however, this was not the reason I have stopped believing in God.

One day I went to a bookstore with two of my cousins, and as we were paying at the cashier a book caught my attention. It was a tiny one and could be easily overlooked, but for some reason the title interested me. The book was called “What on Earth Am I Here For?” by Rick Warren and it was a religious Christian book. As I decided to buy that tiny booklet, one of my cousins told me that I shouldn’t read such a book that it will make me doubt my beliefs. I didn’t care though, and bought the book anyway. I understand why people are so scared of the truth, scared of doubting their beliefs and thoughts. The booklet was, at the time, my book of hope and answers. Even though I got what I desired, it invoked so many more new questions. I felt conflicted and mostly scared. My thoughts were evil and I truly believed that I was blasphemous and would burn in hell. It didn’t get any better, the more I read the more confused and scared I became.

I rarely voiced my thoughts, there was no point really. I was a hypocrite; I would speak of religion and pretend to be a true Muslim, when in reality my thoughts were full of doubts. I don’t know if I was aware at that point, I think I was in denial. I couldn’t face my contemplations, and with every passing day my mind would scream with confusion and fear. I felt lost and cursed with every question or contemplation that crossed my mind. We were told that our brains were one of God’s miracles, but I felt like it was a curse. I wanted to stop thinking, to stop observing and analyzing every single detail around me. With each passing day I wore the veil and identified as Muslim, the more I hated myself. I felt fake and dirty as my fear controlled me. I reached a point where I felt like I was suffocating, like this body I lived in was not my own. I reached a point where my body itched and all I wanted was to peel my skin away.

My fear eventually turned partially into anger and hate towards Him, I was filled with rage at how unfair He was. By then I had read of almost every religion possible that both currently existed or once did. I saw the beauty in them, even though some things were bizarre to me, just like the veil is bizarre to you. It didn’t matter because I came to realize it wasn’t God’s fault. My anger towards Islam and eventually other faiths was not any religion’s fault. It is the realization that people have a tendency to twist things to suit their needs and wants. I have come to realize that God is not a child, nor is He a man. It didn’t make sense that I’m capable of mercy, when God cannot. It didn’t make sense that parents have supported and loved their own children despite their sins, and God cannot. I had come to realize that God is not pathetic like us humans, who have managed to destroy everything around us including each other; God is so much more than we will ever fathom.

Yet I took off the veil after eight years of hypocrisy. For over four years I have not cried once, which I, later, realized was due to depression, but I have broken down twice in front of my parents by the end of the year. At the time I didn’t truly grasp why I was such a mess, till I made my choice and finally took the first step. I went and spoke to my father and mother and told them what I wanted to do and surprisingly they were very supportive. I pushed my luck in a couple of months and I went and told them that I no longer believed in their religion and announced I was atheist. That, though, did not go so well. My mother chose to blame herself, she tried to speak to me and lecture me. I wouldn’t have it; I couldn’t listen to anything at that point. My father did not say much, he understood and gave me my space, but throughout the year he pushed me to choose a religion. He really didn’t care which. My parents feared for my life, which is a bit extreme and understandable, and they were a bit disappointed in me but they never stopped supporting me nor did they stop loving me.

As I was writing today I realized that I have never stopped reading and searching for God. I no longer wish to have a title for who I am, because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter if I chose to be Muslim, Hindus, Sikh, Christian, Jew..etc. What matters is that I find Him, and this is the path I have come to choose. The path to find my God.

So I killed my hypocrite self, and I have managed to break a huge part of my fears and walls. I dwelt beyond my comfort zone in many ways to better myself, and to finally live. Most importantly I no longer have to pretend to be someone else either, well most of the time. There are some necessary masks that one must wear for certain people. I respect every religion out there, including Islam. It is not my intention to offend; I simply wished to share my chain of thoughts throughout the years that led me to the path I am on now. It is people who oppress; it is neither religion nor God who do so, because by the end of the day everything is a choice.

Week Three – Giving In To The Whispers 2

She always tries to busy herself; not a moment of silence or peace. She is always doing, listening, and watching something. Multitasking saves her sanity. Her fear became being alone with her thoughts. They tend to drift, and one thing leads to another and the next thing she is thinking about is what would happen if she fell and broke her leg? What effect would that have on her days to come? … What would happen if her car crashed while she was driving?. Maybe that is why she has always been infatuated with Fire! It is a safe constant reminder of all the possible ways that harm could be done and accidents could happen. It is a potential weapon of mild or severe self harm that is within a safe short distance for when she finally snaps.

Just the mere thoughts tend to unnerve her. She started to question herself. As far as she knows, she has turned into an introvert. But could it be that she is actually depressed? This question became her every waking moment dilemma. But still, she is unable to answer it. Or maybe she is just avoiding the problem “Maybe it is just the result of all the action movies I have watched. Maybe my life is simply that boring and my mind is trying to spice things up” but all her justifications couldn’t make her ignore the truth.

As she put her head on the pillow she started to think about her life; her mediocre life, dreams, and self. Nothing makes her stand out in the crowd except maybe how exceptionally normal she is. She has been able at times to fake being gifted, talented, and even smart. But that was just an act. Her mediocrity is her curse. She can’t see anything beyond it. She doesn’t even have the will or faith to wish for more.
She is tired of her night ritual. She wishes she could end it. She wishes she could end all of this. But all she can do is roll over and fight for sleep only to have one of her usual dreams. She wonders which one is going to be today’s. Is she gonna be hiding from someone?will she fall from the top of a building? Or is it gonna be something new?

When she finally did sleep, she started dreaming. It was the best dream she has ever had. She saw beautiful waterfalls, majestic mountains, relaxing rivers. She saw cottony fluffy clouds and tranquilizing waves. She saw a truly stunning hypnotizing nature.
But suddenly, it all changed. The mountains began to collapse. The waterfalls turned into boiling lava. The clouds began to rain blood. The river started to float . The tranquility and charm of nature transformed into a horrific nightmare.
She knew she was dreaming but she couldn’t wake up. She was paralyzed inside her own head; she couldn’t even control her own body. It was walking slowly confidently towards the horror that was transforming in front of her.

She tried to scream, but her screams were a soft slow song that could send chills down anyone’s spine. It was a song of surrender, acceptance, giving yourself over to be controlled.
When her body got closer to the river, the water froze and crashed into spikes, embedded into the earth. When the rain touched her face, the blood became burning acid. The collapsing mountains then soon exploded everywhere.
She felt she was the source of it all; that she was the one doing this. But she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t stop it no matter how hard she tried. Even her silent screams couldn’t force her body to wake up.

She kept on screaming- singing. Then, she started floating, heading towards the bloody clouds. As soon as she touched the once fluffy clouds, pain shot through her. It was more than she could handle. She felt it tearing her apart limb from limb. She screamed until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She screamed until her mind and body couldn’t take it any more . She screamed until her body couldn’t do anything to make the pain stop but to finally wake up.
Her lungs were barely able to take a breath as she laid there, drenched in her own sweat, her throat too hoarse to make a sound. But as she was sitting there trying to catch her breath, she was still able to feel that lingering pain as she just couldn’t shake that dream off.

Even is her sleep, she cannot escape her own mind… Where else can she hide?

Six Feet Under

Creatures like us have always feared the unknown, we are curious by nature though. We search for the answers and we theorize in hopes to find the truth. We can’t handle the unknown, we can’t comprehend the existence of nothing. So we choose to escape death by either ignoring its existence or by believing in the celestial being or both. However, the fear is still there, the fear of nothingness and the unknown.

The way you ignore the existence of death gives you the illusion that you could overpower it. After all most of the deaths you see or hear on the news or from friends are not close enough. So you forget and you think that it’ll never possibly hit so close to home. That you’re invincible.

Then one day it hits you so close that you break

Someone important to you is taken by the reaper. So your heart contracts in pain over the loss, you scream and cry in anguish. You hug yourself tightly, begging that your life be taken instead. Pleading with what you worship to return from the grasp of the angel of death the soul it has taken.  You remember every good thing your loved one did, and the times you spent together even if they were rare. You are angry that the world didn’t stop, it just moved on like nothing happened. You are worried that your loved one will eventually become a distant memory, a shadow in the back of your mind. Then shame overcomes you.

It’s a long road to find peace, to find that tranquility and acceptance. You come to face your mortality or you simply ignore it again. Death will always be the monster that grabs our loved ones, but to others it’s just another transition to a promised divine world.