storms

I see you. I see you stare hard into your mirror till your reflection blurs. I see you follow the green veins protruding on your arm till they disappear somewhere just before your elbow. I see the sadness in your eyes. The deep, deep sadness in your eyes.

There’s this saying that goes like, “The Eyes are the window to your soul”. I believe this saying was meant for you. Because your eyes, your eyes have seen what most never have. Your eyes are a world of its own.

I see you wear your heart on your sleeves every morning as you walk out into the perfect storm. You do this every single day. Tirelessly. Repeatedly. And in the evening, you come back with your heart worn off. Filled with scratches, tears and slits from all the beasts you encounter in the wilderness. I see you sit on the cold floor, hugging yourself in between tears, slowly caressing your wounds. You lick them till the redness fades away. And you go to sleep, scared to death, with a heavy heart, really really overwhelmed brain…yet, the next day, I see you do it all over again; wear your tattered heart like it is brand new again. Into the wilderness. Into the storm. With a beautiful smile on your face. To fight like you’ve never done before. To absorb all the emotions you encounter; the pain, the misery, the joy and the love. Oh! the love!

I truly believe that you’re really brave; no exaggerations I promise. I believe that it takes a really huge heart, a very resilient human to be just what you naturally are.

I watch you. I watch you lay down the stones, leading the way to the ocean. I watch you welcome every Jane, Julia and Jessica to view the spectacular scenery. The serene ocean. The beautiful sunset. The standing-tall palm trees. I watch as they step on the stones you just laid down, sinking them into the wet sand. I watch you as everyone leaves. As everyone hurts you.

I see you open up your chest widely apart, at the middle of the road, for everyone to see what’s inside you; daring people to come closer, touch your brokenness. I see you speak your truth, honestly, maybe too honestly, it numbs those around you. I see you hand out love like free Christmas gifts as everyone stares on. I see you cry, heart-wrenching sort of cry, the is-she-crazy sort of cry.

They think you’re like a broken tap; emotions oozing out of you like a river. ‘Aint those a little too much?’ they ask.
‘Shouldn’t you be a little bit stronger?’

I watch you crumble as people stare at you. As people question your sanity. As people call you weak.

“You should hold it back.
Trim down the honesty.
Reveal only a very tiny bit of yourself.
My God! DO NOT LOVE HARD LIKE THAT!!!
You need to build that wall within you.
Who cares about being raw anyway?!
Bring down those emotions a notch.
Why do you allow yourself to care that much?!
How do you expect people not to hurt you when you let them in too deep?”

I watch you as people make you question, ‘what is wrong with me?’

I watch you fight the battle within you. That only you will ever see. I watch you shower happiness into people, like you never needed it. I watch you over-pour yourself into people’s cups. I watch you care. I watch you extend the goodness in you to those around you. I watch you love like there’s no tomorrow. I watch you touch souls. I watch you attend to others’ wounds. I watch you empathize. Change lives. Make it better for everyone. I watch you soldier on, despite all they say and do to you. I watch you adapt and learn. I watch you feel. I watch you open up to the world like a flower, ready to bloom. I watch you take the risk, every single day, to be your true self. To own up to your mistakes. To reach out to others. To be genuine. Authentic. Raw. And brave, very very brave.

I don’t care what they say, I believe vulnerability is not a defect.

I see you.

Photo Courtesy: https://www.pinterest.com

God and I, we used to be such good friends. God, don’t I miss that friendship! There was no rush of leaving the prayer mat after praying. I’d stay there and just talk to Him, you know? Maybe because I was lonely. And it was such a comfortable safe space to slide into. I could cry, laugh and say all I wanted to say that my anxiety wouldn’t otherwise let me. Or maybe because of the way people judged me a little too harshly. I had always been recognized as the religious one. Why? I didn’t shake hands with men. Or maybe because I did all my sunnahs like they were compulsory. Or my sujoods were noticeably longer. And I wasn’t even trying. That was my comfortable zone. I remember leaving school earlier on Fridays just so I could go to a distant mosque where nobody recognized me so I could have alone time with God. It was beautiful.

Update 1: I prefer hugs to handshakes now 🙁
Update 2: Where did y’all religious friends go?
Update 3: I’m doing compulsories like they’re sunnahs now.
Update 4: Refer to update 3

Thing with friendships though, you don’t realize when they’re breaking. It’s so gradual and smooth before you know it you’re the friend that people are coming to for good music. The religious friends are spending less and less time with you. You’re spending your nights in clubs. And then one day after so many days you’ll find yourself in a dirty pitch in your room or on your way to work wondering, “How? How did I become this person? How did I get here? I just want to go home.”

So yeah, I’m not in a very good place with God now. And that hurts me. I’d be in Jamia mosque praying and look at people who look so engrossed in their own prayers and duas with Allah and i’ll feel so much envy and pain and a

“That used to be you” Must be the devil hat whispers with his tongue out.

Like there was this girl in a red Hijab once. She was at the very first line. Flawless skin and such a beautiful hearty and warm smile. I imagined she woke up in the depths of the night to pray. The way I used to. The way I want to.

Sometimes, I’m reminded of God in the most bizarre and unexpected way or place. Take for example this friend. Said friend isn’t Muslim. Said friend asks me, “How are you and God, love?”
That has stuck with me for so long since it happened. I wish we had such honest conversations more often. Or this time I’m watching a play, in the form of contemporary dance, about a group of people escaping their homeland because of war, and so they’re fleeing to safer grounds. I remember sitting there alone, telling myself, it’s time to start that journey. Go back home, darling.

Thing is, it’s such a big place. When you’re being pressured into stuff, you can not remember anything like peer pressure. You’re not even doing it to be cool for anyone. You tell yourself that you’re doing it in the spirit of being ‘adventurous’. And really, maybe you are. Because, the world our parents think we live in and the world we actually live in, it’s mars and venus. Two totally different realities. And people are busy. Everyone is going on with their business and here you are, taking whatever path you deem right. Which to be honest, I don’t really have a problem with. Only thing is, ‘Is there room for my faith and God in this?’ Most times that answer is no. And almost all those times, you’ll go ahead with whatever it is.

I haven’t been to a club. I haven’t taken alcohol. Alhamdullillah. But I have seen how weak I can get, and I don’t know when that day will come. I have close friends that I have seen traverse the ‘halal-strict-hijabi’ life to the party all night, ‘take buibui off in the corner close to home’ life. And yes, they are STILL my friends. Because a part of me gets them. A very big part of me gets them. And then there’s this part that’s hanging on to whatever trail that’s left of my friendship with God. That i’m holding on to with my dear life.

There’s that voice again.
“Go back home, darling.”

Yours truly,
Your Favourite Stranger 🙂

P.S: You can read more of her pieces on her blog: https://www.favouritestranger.com/

VULNERABILITY IS NOT A DEFECT

GO BACK HOME, DARLING.