Tag Archives: love

Simple Desires chapter 6

You know that moment before the impact, that split second between oblivion and the shattering truth, like that instant in some hospital corridor when the doctor is heading down to tell the anxiously waiting family that piece of news that will slowly unravel the fabric of their existence, these tightly woven memories and constants that will soon change after the doctor pulls at the binding threads.

I’ve always been intrigued and drawn to examine such moments or what I call the ‘’the seconds before the impact”

To this day I still remember my first “seconds before the impact “and unwittingly I thought it would be my last.

It was 2 a.m and Chris hadn’t returned from god knows where , I had completed the evening with my mum so she wouldn’t get too worried and had found out that Chris had rushed out claiming he had an urgent work matter to deal with.

Had he noticed me?

Did he hear me as I came down the stairs?

I kept thinking about that awful scratching sound and the blood…….

what was bone chilling is that Chris didn’t seem to care about the mess,  and part of me felt he sought relief in that mess he reveled in the savagery he was inflicting on his skin

Was his other arm like that?

I sat on my bed unable to sleep until I knew he was home safe, I’d tried calling him but his cell was closed.

At 3 am I heard stumbling behind the wall adjacent to mine, I quickly headed out to the hall unlocking Chris’s door –we had each other’s keys in case of emergency- as I rushed through his disheveled apartment I didn’t have a moment to notice the waning signs.

Chris was never messy, in fact he was agonizingly immaculate bordering on OCD

This wasn’t normal

Something was disturbingly wrong

I headed quietly towards his bedroom bracing myself of what I might see…

“Chris”

He was balled up in the corner next to his dresser, his head was bowed and I could see he was shaking

“Chris” I called again not knowing what to do or how to begin to gather those shattered pieces bundled together in the corner

“Chris, sweetie can you hear me?”

I approached him silently afraid to make a sudden move, he looked like a wounded animal, and then I heard that blood freezing scratching sound again.

“Oh god “I covered my mouth, tears welling in my eyes as he continued to scratch the already raw flesh of his forearm completely oblivious to my body crouching in front of him.

His sleeves were no longer  clean , but instead stained with his own blood , and I got a feeling that Chris had two self-harming states , the controlled one he had at my mother’s house and this frantic unstable one he was having here in the comfort of his own apartment

I called his name again but he didn’t answer. I forced his chin up to see his face but he was so stiff and wooden

I tried again trying to seek comfort in his warm green eyes, but they were closed in a grimace, brows knitted and his mouth was slightly opened his breathing shallow.

I could smell the alcohol in his breath.

Chris never drinks.

I buried my face near his neck whispering comforting words coaxing him out of whatever hell he’s been trapped in.

“Chris sweetie please , you’re hurting yourself , please Chris don’t do this honey , Chris listen to my voice” I kept pleading with him through my tears ,my body was so pressed to him that we might as well been one .

I slowly reached my hand to his frantic one, touching his bloody fingers “Chris you’re breaking my heart Chris please, I’m so sorry I didn’t know, please forgive me”

His sense of urgency slowed down and I took the opportunity to grab at his hands holding them tightly, he tried to struggle resisting my touch but I was so determined to snap him out of it.

I pressed my face harder to his neck “it’s ok, you’re ok Chris, I got you, its ok I’m here I got you, you can stop now “ I kept chanting the words over and over until I felt him relax into me , I hadn’t noticed then of course but later I realized that it was the first time Chris had let me be that near to him or touch him

When I felt him completely relax, his muscles unwinding. I slowly took him by the hand urging him up, thankfully he complied.

I led him to his en suit bathroom and sat him at the edge of the tub, I grabbed the nearest towel and soaked it with water .all the time I made sure I was still holding his hand, I was so terrified to leave him alone for a minute fearing he would return to his self-harm.

I quickly reached for the antiseptic he had in his mirror cabinet, unsurprisingly I found a soothing balm that was also anti scarring.

I cleaned his wound , pressing gently at the raw skin , all that time Chris’s eyes were almost closed as if he was barely conscious to what was happening , I feared the antiseptic would sting but Chris hadn’t even flinched as if he was completely numb,. I applied the soothing balm and slowly wrapped his abused arm in gauze and cleaned the mess we made

My hands hesitated when it came to what I wanted to do next. I slowly reached his shirt unbuttoning it but Chris’s eyes suddenly shot wide in panic

What are you doing? His voice was terrified and shaky, his eyes glazed and unseeing

“Chris it’s ok sweetie, I’m just going to take off your shirt and get you a clean one “I said soothingly

Chris did not seem to comprehend my words his eyes were still wide, cold sweat erupted on his forehead

“Please don’t do this, please I won’t do anything please I’ll sit quietly I won’t fidget “Chris’s voice pleaded with me, his eyes filled with agony

My heart sank and shattered and bled

I realized Chris didn’t know it was me ……..Chris saw someone else in my place someone who had hurt him.

Someone who the mere action of moving caused him to terrify Chris to that extent.

“Chris baby it me, Ceels “I sobbed out

“Chris, its Cecilia you didn’t do anything wrong honey I just want you in a clean shirt “I ran my hands through his soft hair.

His mesmerizing green eyes focused on my face and a bewildered look replaced the terrifying one

“Ceels?”

“Yes it’s me Chris, I’m just going to remove this shirt ok “I kept my eye contact, as I slowly unbuttoned his bloody dress shirt.

Chris’s eyes stayed on me drinking me in as if he thought I wasn’t real, I slowly finished my task and tried to push the sleeves off his shoulders, but he stiffened

“Chris I’m just going to slip it off gently” I said soothingly, afraid he was confused again

But he wasn’t, I could see that at this moment he knew who I was but he was still afraid

I gently slid the sleeves off, shushing him and telling him he’s going to be fine, when my hands pushed at the sleeves removing them from his arms I gasped …….

I was wrong …..The moment I found him in his bedroom wasn’t my moment of impact…

This was.

 

Week 17 – Simple love

she loves herself.
But at times she realises that she loves herself because she is supposed to; it is mandatory,  the way it should be. It is after all the right thing to do.
But sometimes she feels it is not enough.
Maybe it is because she knows deep inside, just how strong her demons are. She knows that if she were to meet herself as another person, she won’t like who she is. She knows all her rough edges, but she doesn’t want to smooth anything out
She is strong.  She has survived a lot. She has grown impenetrable skin, never to be harmed or even scratched. But late at night she knows she can’t sleep because she wants to feel loved. She doesn’t want a great love story worthy of movies. She just wants to feel loved and cared for. She wants to be seen, admired, but not put on a pedestal.  She needs someone to see who she really is, and feel without a doubt, that that person is worth loving.
She wants her scars to be attractive.
Her roughness to be desired. 
She wants someone to show her that she doesn’t need to be anyone else,  that she doesn’t need to fake anything even for a second.
She wants to feel her heart beat.
She needs to feel alive.

I’ll Still Love You

I pity you, because you limit yourself with only your ideals. I pity you, because you’re hardly understood. I pity you, because you choose to blame everything else except yourself. I pity you because you only blame yourself. I pity you for loving me so much that you’ve stopped living your life fully. I pity you, because nothing is ever enough.

I don’t hate you, even though you make me hate myself. I don’t hate you, even though you’ve managed to always make me feel guilty. I don’t hate you, even though I spent my time scared of being like you. I don’t hate you, even though I want to for not being strong enough. I don’t hate you, even though I’m never enough.

I’ve come to love you out of duty rather than out of passion. I’ve come to hate myself for feeling that way. My guilt eats me, as my brain tries to justify it. I only want you to be happy, but you seem to want things that I can’t give you. Every time I pursue my own happiness, you guilt me with every step. You won’t let me fly and fall, you want to clip my wings. You can’t do that though, so instead you guilt me with every step I take. I know you want me to be happy, but on your terms not mine. I wish if you would clip my wings instead, because I know I can fight it, but I can’t fight guilt and disappointed looks.

I’ll still love you no matter what, you’ve done so much for me. I wish if I could make you happy, I wish I had never told you the truth. I wish I can go back to pretending to be someone that I’m not. I know it might have made you happy, but truth is it wouldn’t have made a difference.

I’ll still love you no matter what, because it’s my duty. I know you love me and no one will ever love me like you do, but your love hurts me so much, I sometimes can’t breathe and yet your love is what helped me survive so far. Your love is what made me who I am. Your love and support is what always made me feel safe.

So I’m sorry for not being enough. I’m sorry for not making you happy. I’m sorry for not expressing my love to you. I’m sorry for not being there the way you want me to be. I’m sorry for wanting to live my life by my own ideals. I’m sorry I could not make you proud. I’m sorry you think I’m lost. I’m sorry for being me, and most importantly I’m sorry for not being able to care anymore.

I want to understand you, to help you. I blame myself for not being able to reach out properly. Believe me, I’ve tried but with every attempt, I face a wall so thick and confusing. You provoke me so easily and guilt me just as quick. I have tried different ways to communicate and with each try I’ve come to fail. Days turned to months and months turned to years and the result was the same. So I’m sorry but I no longer care, I’m tired of trying and always failing. I’m tired of talking to a wall. I’m tired of never being enough.

With your love you’ve managed to suffocate me and push me away. With your love you have turned my passion to duty. With your love you have managed to make me care less about you.

Have you?

Have you lived?

Did you cherish?

Have you hugged until your body bent and molded into your lover?

Have you relaxed into an embrace, thinking this was the safest place since your mothers womb?

Have you defused a fight with humor even though what you felt was fear?

Have you laughed when it wasn’t funny?

Have you cried in a crowd under your sunglasses?

Have you poped, hopped, and locked to your favorite tune?

Were you selfless?

Have you acted silly to cheer someone up?

Did you finally get that one day you wanted?

Have you finally put on that sexy red lipstick at the bottom of your drawer?

Have you allowed yourself to be pretty?

Did you finally get to strut?

Have you finally dropped the strong act?

Has anyone notice your despair?

Was someone finally in?

Was there anything left to salvage?

Did you help them?

Were you saved?

Did you let them?

simple desires chapter 3

“hey Chris ”

“hey Ceels why are you calling  so early, is the wedding over?” Chris asked me in a tired voice

“Mm..m no, I escaped , just didn’t like the music ” I said trying to sound nonchalant and failing , I know Chris could read me like a book .

“Did any of those skinny mean girls as you like to call them at your sister’s wedding give you a hard time?

I didn’t answer

“Ceels come over ,we’ll watch a stupid show , eat some candy and you can tell me all about it ”

damn him and his perception into my soul

“Chris you can say bitches ,you’re a grown man ” I teased

“I know ,I just don’t like too”

“ooh look at you Mr. raised properly ” I said smiling

…..silence.

the same old iron gate of silence I ‘ve grown familiar too , I mention something about his childhood and he is silent as the dead

“Chris are you still there?”

“yes ..so are you coming over? ” Chris said quietly the smile from before absent from his voice.

“yeah sure,  I already spend way too much time at your apartment , you think I should give up my apartment next to yours “I said jokingly trying to lighten his mood from before

“are you kidding I practically live in your apartment ” Chris says laughing

“maybe we should tear down the connecting wall in our bedrooms and have a big fat giant loft “he mocks

“Ooohoo can we do that Chris pleeeeease ” I was whining like a child , I would almost do anything to make Chris laugh even suggesting being roommates  which I know  is a no way in hell situation for Chris.

when he first suggested I rent the apartment next to him I was shocked , I thought he was joking , I knew Chris was super private when it came to sharing living space , he always had his own space ever since I could remember , but he had explained that I was his best friend and that I was already looking for a place , and let me tell you I LOVED it, it was well-lit and had a lovely view of the city .

I had come here after I was offered a job in one of the psychiatric hospitals and it was my dream job ,Chris had done well for himself too , working as a lawyer in one of the top firms , all in all we had done well for ourselves and over the years Chris has become my closest friend and confident, I’d like to say that I was his but it wasn’t the same , Chris knew everything about me  and I mean everything even when I got my periods , I was the queen of over sharing and he was the complete opposite .

I knew I was special to him because he only offered me the apartment next door, although I knew john had been looking as well , but still he never revealed anything just some scraps about his young life, but I didn’t give up sometime I would say something that would trigger a stoic silent reaction from him, and sometimes he would deflect the hell out of a conversation

“Ceels where are you now ?” Chris’ question interrupted my thoughts.

“I’m coming up right now ” I answered distractedly.

“ok , see you”and he hung up.

seconds and he was opening his apartment door with a big smile on his face

“hey grumpy ” he greeted

“hey obnoxious” I returned

I plopped my self on one of his beige baby butt soft sofas as I like to tell him cause they are just ridiculously soft and fluffy .

“So you look …uh  I mean the dress is..”chris stammered trying bless his soul to identify the monstrosity I was wearing.

“like a giant cupcake ate a strawberry jam doughnut ” I finished

he threw his head back in a chuckle

ha Cecilia -1 broody-ness -0

he headed to his kitchen to make coffee still laughing

after a bit he handed me a mug of excellently brewed coffee , he even chose my favourite mug ..I mean his…. whatever , I inhaled the coffee and just closed my eyes savouring the moment, when I opened my eyes I found his green eyes looking at me with a soft smile on his face .

I felt my cheeks heat -damn it Cecilia pull it together , it’s just Chris sometimes gave me the mother of all intense looks and I didn’t know what to do with it , because that was it! there was no other indication that he thought of me that way , he even set me up with some of his lawyer friends but still when he gave me that look I couldn’t stop the heat from invading my face.

“so what happened?”he broke the silence

I proceeded to tell him about my stupid sister and her bitchy friends and my mum hounding me about getting married and my biological deadline and all those colorful jabs only moms and relatives know how to say.

after I finish I huff out an annoyed breathe “it’s just I don’t know how to please them Chris , and I can’t keep up with their deadlines for boyfriends , for husbands , for careers , for kids .

I fall silent feeling the water works begin to form and my lips trembling

“hey Ceels ,hey… look  at me “Chris says softly taking my hand.

“your mom is just worried and meddling , you know her , as for your sister , she’s just jealous cause you are friendly and kind and funny and people just love you instantly and she’s the opposite of that ”

I smile at his words and sincere eyes “thanks Chris you are the king of pep talks ”

“I know that’s why I’m an awesome lawyer” he says smugly

“hey Chris texas called and they say your ego is blocking the sun ” I mocked

he laughed and took our mugs to the sink to wash , I swear Chris’ OCD is just crazy , his apartment is always immaculate with all its whites and beige it looks out of a catalogue ,nothing is out-of-place.

“so why didn’t you hang out with the guys they said they were going to joes?”

“I’m still working on Robinson’s case and I needed to finish,  the closing session is in 3 days”

“you’ll be awesome and completely annihilate that human trafficking dick” I said confidently.

”I hope so Ceels I’m so close , I already have him cornered ” Chris said biting his lip

“you will and then we will celebrate and be awesome together ”

“besides john keeps setting me up on blind dates” he said annoyed

“ooh ” I pretended to find the cream carpet interesting.

“it’s getting on my nerves honestly I feel ambushed “Chris says running his hands through his soft hair

“maybe you’ll like one of them ?”

“don’t be ridiculous Ceels ,you know me I don’t do that ” he says firmly

“why not ?” I push

“because …it’s not for me …and I don’t want to , besides I’m too busy”

ah yes, same old excuses .

“you don’t seem busy now listening to my problems or the other gazillion times I came to you to rant ”

“it’s different we’re best friends “he answered through his teeth

“well a relationship is like that but you get to be intimate with this person too” I continued to push knowing I was getting to him and crossing his invisible lines .

I was now standing in front of him ,and I could feel the shudder run through his body from my words

“stop it Ceels “he said warningly looking me straight in the eye

“why ?

“Ceels”

“Why is it not for you , you hug me , you hold my hands sometimes ,why can’t you have that with someone you’re in love with ” I countered stubbornly

“It’s not the same “now he’s looking anywhere but at me

“why? “I sound like a broken record

“why don’t you find someone ? “he shoots defensively

I stare back, seeing the panic in his eyes , he’s deflecting as usual , I’ve learned all of Chris’ tricks by now, this attack doesn’t phase me

“well ,cause I haven’t found my person yet”

-yes you have Cecilia (shut  up brain )

he turns his back to me pretending to wipe the clinically clean counter top and I can feel how tense his shoulders are , I know this reaction he’s giving me the do not approach signals.

so naturally I do the opposite

I put my  hands on his shoulders and he flinches a whole foot away from me his eyes darting around for an exit.

my heart twists ,its time to back off.

“hey Chris it’s ok , I was just upset from my sisters and you’re stressed ,I’m sorry ok  calm down “I said soothingly giving him an out

he nods silently avoiding my eyes but I can still see how tense he is

“umm I have to finish my closing argument , so ..” he says quietly

“it’s ok I’m beat , I need to change this awful dress and take a long bubble bath “I said dismissively backing away from him ,gathering my shoes and pouffy clutch – stupid sister-  and heading for the door

“Ceels ” he calls ,and I can hear the desperation in his voice

“yeah Chris ” I look from the door

um… tomorrow i’ll bring you cupcakes from the coffee shop you love near my work ” he says

and then silence with exchanged looks.

both of us burst laughing until I’m supporting my body by his front door

“I’m gonna get you for this Chris , one day you will look like shit and I will have my sweet revenge”

“don’t think so muffin ” he answers smugly

“shut it grumpy” I said heading to my door

” but I expect cupcakes tomorrow non the less”I shouted over my shoulders

he’s standing at his door smiling while looking at me waiting for me to get in ,and its like he’s a different person from before .

I smile back and close the door .

my smile falls once I’m inside , I prepare my bath silently and once Im in my tub , I finally allow my tears to flow

this is not the first time nor will it be the last time I tried with Chris and failed to reach through ,and it’s not the first time I’m crying over him either .

Week 12 – Sands of White

I dream of a land with sand of white,
with waters blue.

I dream of revitalising breezes,
with air pure and true.

I dream of cool rain amidst the summer heat,
as the playful drops stream down my hair.

I dream of lean sun tanned bodies,
and a whirlwind love affair.

I live in humid heat,
with no desire to move.

I live in suffocating streets,
the sound of cars do not soothe.

I live surrounded by bears and wolves,
all wanting to take a bite.

I live in world where I’m jealous of birds,
especially when they take flight.

Wouldn’t it be nice to find a happy medium,
and find that special place?

Because If I ever do…I will constantly
sport a bright and smiley face!

Week 9 – Nostalgia

Sitting in front of the TV I came across a movie I hadn’t seen since I watched it years ago in the cinema. I went to see Eight Legged Freaks way back when it came out in the UK. Spiders freak me out and I remember the film Arachnophobia used to freak me the hell out (although I’ve watched it several times). However, I remember watching it with my mother in the cinema and laughing throughout the film. I mostly remembered the last bit of the film, but as it played before me today, I began getting little flashbacks. I saw actors in the movie, who were kids back then but are now stars, whether it be TV or film. “Oh My God! Scarlett Johansson was so young!”

I began to feel nostalgic for the days I went to the cinema with my mother. We saw a multitude of movies back then, including Austin Powers and 8 Miles. It was something we enjoyed doing (when we could afford it). ‘Cause my mother was there, she would often convince the ticket sellers that I was much older than my actual age – I miss those days. One of the most exhilarating things in the world; trying to convince the cinema we’re older than we really are.

My mother was probably the most influential person in my life. Which for some, I know is normal, while for others it may be a little weird. Often my mother wasn’t just the woman who brought me to this world – the person who raised, provided for and taught me; but she was also my friend and more often than one would believe, my daughter. My mother practised a manner of upbringing I like to call “You can try what you like, but with me”.

Don’t worry, she disciplined me plenty, I’d never forget those moments when I saw red in her eyes; but she also respected my intelligence and treated me with respect and a manner much older than my age. I learned the price of responsibility, freedom and independence. She would allow me to try things bit by bit, until I proved to her I can handle the weight of the freedom she gave me.

Although we had our differences, and like every mother and daughter we had our fair share of conflict, my mother tried as best she could to be the best parent possible on her own. I never truly felt I needed my father, especially as I learned the reality of who my father was and the hostility she had to endure. There really is a fine line between love and hate.

I had many firsts in my life thanks to my mother. Things that allowed me to transition into the mysterious world of adults. Thanks to her, thanks to the things she showed me, stories she told me and the experiences she allowed me to have, I was able to handle her loss with greater ease than many others my age or older. I have to admit I have not mourned nor felt pain like I did the day and years after I lost her. Even after death, I’m still learning more and more, thanks to her moments of wisdom and tales that now make more sense than ever before… Thank you Mama, for the bad and the good. Thank you.

Week 8 – Stunted but Trying

Love is a fearful word. It carries far more weight than many others. Why have we come to fear such a word? Such an emotion?

The modern world is far more concerned with the touchable, the perceivable, the ownable. Emotions don’t often fit well within the confines of these possessive categories. They are things that are felt, maybe seen but mostly felt. The cold and calm are considered evolved and are respected. They represent the modern ideal – the person who can compartmentalise and desensitise.

The emotional or the sensitive are considered to be weak, unevolved or simple; merely because they can be okay with showing or accepting that part of them. They fear but they feel.

As a product of the modern society – a being who decided to disconnect my emotions than to show them, I can tell you they’re there… They hide buried deep, almost unrecognisable, just waiting for that moment to explode from under the flesh and blood – waiting to break through my ribcage and splatter all who stand before me.

Due to the immense pain I’d experienced throughout my life and especially my childhood, I strengthened my heart further and further. However, I didn’t toughen it with fiber, muscles and love, I strengthened it with titanium and ice. With every attack my defences grew stronger – almost impenetrable.

I respect those who do not build my kind of walls.Those who are brave and accept the vulnerability with open arms. Of course there is a difference between allowing yourself to be consumed and live in turmoil, and being open to love in a healthy way.

Why the fear? Some may ask. Because although we were taught what to buy, where to live and who we should be, we were never really taught how to accept how we feel – if it doesn’t fit in with the “ïdeal.” We were taught to remain calm, maintain a poker face. We were taught that no one cared how we felt, but we should care about how others might feel. We were taught that expressing emotions was a weakness and that we must always be tough.

“Don’t cry!”
“Don’t complain!”
“Don’t confront!”
“Don’t be yourself, people won’t accept it”
“Don’t give up your heart…”

How does it feel I wonder? How does it feel to allow love in full heartedly? To just take the plunge and strip down the walls? Let yourself be seen for who you really are. Allow all that comes in, bad and good. How does that feel? I’ve long forgotten. Last I allowed such a thing, it was what seems to be a lifetime ago.

All of you out there who take risks, who don’t let their past and fears hold them back – all you “the brave”, I wish to be like you. I wish to embrace love, to embrace the pain that may come. I wish to throw caution to the wind and experience that which I have long missed. I want to be brave like you… while still holding on to my senses. Is that possible?

Simple Desires chapter 2

Times Chris let me in –

I chose psychology as a major in college . I couldn’t tell you a definite reason , maybe I wanted to help people or figure out myself and the people around me, but if I was being  honest with myself , it was because I wanted to help  Chris .

I even wanted to help him more when he seemed to never question my choice in studies,  purposely choosing to ignore the topic . even later on when I had taken a job as a social worker he never asked me about my cases he seemed to avoid it to all cost ,whenever one of the guys would ask me something about my work he would always busy himself with something and it frustrated the hell out of me .

Chris guarded his secrets like it was his source of life and to be honest it hurt me that he couldn’t trust me the way I trusted him , I told Chris everything , we were after all best friends and later on neighbors ,but sometimes some of those secrets spilled from that tightly clutched hands of his and I got to glimpse some of them before they slipt into the cracks and disappeared never to be revealed again, I think since the day I met Chris I always subconsciously wanted to help him, he was always there in the back of my mind .

I knew something unspeakable and horrible had happened to him I didn’t linger too much at what it might be because my heart hurt when I thought about it but there were always signs hinting to what might or probably did happen to him.

Chris always made himself smaller in crowds he also flinched from sudden movements always eyeing the exits , I didn’t quite pay attention to it until one time the guys were fooling around explaining a prank on one of the freshmen and john (the prankster of our group) had reached out to grab Chris for a demonstration ,it all happened in seconds , I could see the utter horror and panic  that swept through Chris’s eyes , and I suddenly reacted by standing from the armchair I had curled in for the evening spontaneously yelling “burritos and ice-cream”

the four guys looked at me in surprise including Chris who seemed to snap out of whichever nightmare he was trapped in “Ceecee are you alright in the head” John asked mockingly

“yup very much but my stomach is craving burritos and ice-cream and it’s the last day of our exams and I would really like to stuff my face with junk food , now who’s in? ”

I finish my ramble with that question hoping to distract the attention from Chris and all the time I could feel his eyes on me and I was very aware of my tomato red face by then.

“who would say no to that”  Tom finally answered my ramblings like my question was so absurd , I smiled in victory, I could always count on Tom’s appetite and eagerness to indulge in the unhealthiest of junk food.

“then lets roll ” Sam (ever the flirt) said smiling at me waving his hands while bowing “our princess has ordered and we must obey”

I waved grandly at them not being able to hold a straight face ” go my knights in peace may you be victorious in slaying the burrito truck”

throughout the exchange Chris was completely silent but his eyes were on me the whole time I glanced at him and saw that he was now behind the living room sofa using it as some kind of shield but his eyes …his forrest green eyes were  stormy ,hesitant, careful ,and guarded like he had somehow revealed something that he shouldn’t and he was afraid of the consequences , but I just nodded at him and gave him a soft smile that he didn’t return , my guess was that he was still shaken up about the almost grab thing

“go in peace my ass” John interrupted my train of thoughts “you might be the princess but you’re driving the chariot since you’re the one with the car ”

“Fine” I huffed  pretending to be annoyed “but Chris will clean up the apartment while we buy the food I swear there’s a dead racoon under the that flea infested sofa of yours ” good thinking Ceecee give him time to regroup he needs to catch his breath and recompose himself .

true to my thoughts Chris let out a sigh  and nodded in approval.

“then it’s set ” I said with a grin and the three of us headed out leaving Chris to fetch some books from a classmate he said he needed and head to the apartment John ,Tom ,Sam and I shared .

later that night when I offered to pay for my share in the food John said that Chris had already paid for me cause he owed me some money ,needless to say I owed him nothing , it was just chris’s way of saying thank you and I accepted it as it was,  he had acknowledged what happened and allowed me in even if it was just a little and I vowed to keep trying until I could fracture or even chip that big wall he had around himself .

It was a start.

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.