Abandoned Vessel

I've decided to abandon writing/blogging for a while. Like most things in my life these days, I just don't enjoy it anymore. Maybe I'll come back once I have good to share with the world.

Just Cringe and Bare it

What do I do when the only person I can really talk to wont talk to me. Can't talk to me. I try to replace them but others don't fulfil the need. I end up feeling more lonely than if I were just alone. I just want to hear their voice, have them say my name, and listen to me talk. Its a simple yet strange desire.

Blindness

Two eyes of the lifeless
Take, making those breathless
Asleep though in wakefulness
Well in to wanness
A sickness of witness

Saddness

A dull aching knocking
Retreat from it quaking
A sound long foreboding
Of madness its making

My Allah Is The One

"I am sorry for my weakness"

Make Dua For Me

The Messenger of Allah said; “The supplication of a Muslim for his brother in his absence will certainly be answered. Everytime he makes a supplication for good for his brother, the angel appointed for this particular task says: `Ameen! May it be for you, too’.” [Muslim].

I just did it!

I just did what every girl thinks of doing at least once in her life. Chopping off all my hair. It feels liberating. I'm going to be rocking a bob for a while.

Charha de rang, soneya ve

The peacock decorates his beloved with his colours.

Vibrantly painting her with the ink of his feathers.

He gives though he loses what cannot be retrieved.

Stark white feathers are how saintly lovers are reprieved.

Humbled of his riches he does not think to grieve.

His heart only dreads the many paths to his bereave.

The peacock decorates his love with his feathers.

In mourner’s clothes he blissfully stalks after his colours.

Selflessly pleased at the pleasure of his lover.

He gives as if it were not to another;

Rather from his person, plucked to personify this other.

In giving, receiving the colours of his lover.

Medicine

Pick it up, pick it all up.
And start again.
You've got a second chance,
You could go home.
Escape it all.
It's just irrelevant.

It's just medicine.

You could still be,
What you want to,
What you said you were
When I met you.

You've got a warm heart,
You've got a beautiful brain,
But it's disintegrating
From all the medicine.
Medicine.

You could still be,
What you want to be,
What you said you were,
When you met me.

-Daughter 

How to fall back in love.

Today I dreamt that I had left this country of mine for a new country. I didn't think to deeply about what was in this new country because I couldn't decide what characteristics I actually wanted this new country to have. Anything thing I thought up made me hate it...such is the case when you hate everything. So I made my new country a desert, with an oasis . Nothing else but fine grains of sand, a couple of trees, and clear water. That's all I could decide on, an empty, rock-less desert.

A Resolution

If its help you offer, I require more than that.
I need a nuclear arsenal, an army, and a revolutionary manifesto.
I require unprecedented rapid global social and economic restructuring.
I need the wealth of the worlds top 10% and the influence that comes with.
I need chemical and electrical rewiring of my brain and selective amnesia.
I  will need perfect health and incredible physical strength.
I will require the favour, intervention, mercy, and pardon of the Lord of worlds.
I need the capital to ransom myself from the fire and punishment of the grave.
I will need a light and guide to navigate the qiyama.
I need a key to the entrance of jennah, and access to prime real estate. 
And who but Allah swt could help me all with that.

Purity of Hate

After everything the most resounding result is hatred. It has taken over my days and robbed me of my nights. I hate. I hate just about everything, everyone, and everywhere. Everything from the disgusting little atoms and molecules to the empty meaningless space around us. I hate that stupid little ugly quivering dog next door and the fugly old lady that refuses to control it. I hate snow, cold, and the sunless sky. I hate money. I hate poverty. I hate my house, I want to set it on fire. I hate that voice I hear everyday that complains and screams and offers no pleasantries. I hate my friends. I hate how lazy and naive I've been my whole life. I hate skin, hair, and saliva. I hate people from my community...and really all immigrants...and non immigrants. I hate white people, black people, brown people, and Asians.  I hate people, and their stupid non nonsensical cultures and their ugly sounding jabbering in their strange languages. I hate atheists and idol worshipers. I hate the French...and the Brits...the Dutch...South Africans; screw those guys. I hate dirt, filth, and residue.  I hate animals...plants...anything living or dead. So nasty. I could run away but there is no where to go. The problem is clearly me. I don't even see the point of living anymore. I hate life. I would like to be rid of it. I feel like life is some type of infectious disease that has trapped me in this horrific torture shell of a body. And death would be like cracking that shell open...and finally being free of it. A release and hopefully, relief. 

I don't like to write

I've written myself many a letter
Told me many a tale
To comfort and lull many emotions
That came about my way
But these letters no longer sooth me
The use of words no longer suit me
So to the world of language and poetry
Goodbye and without me farewell

Message to an old friend:

Although we don't speak or call or write, I miss you. I miss you something awful. I wish we were in the same place at the same time. I would kiss you and hug you and never let you leave me behind...again. I miss confiding in you, our easy long talks, our teasing and laughing, the intense discussions, and even our arguments. I want to talk to you again even just to argue, because I miss you. I don't know why you often drift away but without you my life is like a puzzle missing pieces. Every so often I convince myself that I don't need you. That if our friendship was that great then we wouldn't be estranged for so long. Even if that's true my heart can't be tough on you, she always softens and remembers the anger is only because I miss you. So where ever you are and what ever you are doing, know that I love you and wish you well and ask that Allah protect you. 

Ma'Salaama

Lord of the rings poem

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

 

- John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

Mamihlapinatapai

is also a real word. It is as hard to say as it is to define. Vaguely, it means "a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other will offer something that they both desire but are unwilling to suggest or offer themselves." yup, lol.

Weekly Jumuah Special: How Remembering Death Can Make You More Productive

Read this article, its beneficial inshaAllah.

Weekly Jumuah Special: How Remembering Death Can Make You More Productive

Learning to trust and identify the trust worthy

وَتَوَكَّلْ عَلَى اللَّهِ ۚ وَكَفَىٰ بِاللَّهِ وَكِيلًا     ٣٣:٣

"And put thy trust in Allah, and enough is Allah as a disposer of affairs." Quran [33:3]

What is it that I do not want people to know about me?

I don't want them to know...

• That I am insecure about my looks.
• That I believe that I have a difficult and boring personality.
• That I have failed at all of my attempts in my professional goals and I feel like a loser.
• That I pretend to have everything figured out but I have no idea what I am doing.
• That it doesn't take much for me to compromise my standards because deep down I believe I don't deserve them. 
• That I am resentful that I don't have the benefits of white privilege in my personal and professional life.  
• That I am guilty of all the seven deadly sins except for envy.
• That I don't/can't trust anyone and before that, my father was the only person I've ever trusted.
• That for the most part I strategically say and do things so that people can't hold my words against me later. In the few instances I do speak freely I berate myself and feel paranoid about it later. 
• That I care a lot about what people think of me.
• That I think I am a hypocrite. 
• That I don't live with integrity.  
• That I have disrespected myself and I am deeply ashamed of this.
• That I've been depressed for the last 3-4 years but most of that time I didn't realize it. 
• That I think I have a black heart and a dark soul. 
• That the only light I ever saw came from when I accepted Islam. 
• That I am too caught up in dunya and I struggle a lot with this. 
• That I make bad decisions.
• That I am afraid of remaining unmarried and possibly never having children.
• That I believe that some people are just lonely wandering nomads and I am one of them. I've never had the same group of friends for more than two year. I've never really had a best friend. 
• That I don't think I am intelligent.
• That I realized I don't like myself the way I am today and even if I ran away most of my problems would follow because they are my fault.
• That I used to think people underestimated me but now I'm starting to believe that I was arrogant. 
• That I am secretive but I don't want to be anymore because it's stressful with little benefit to me. 

...So that list is longer than I expected. The more I wrote the more I remembered. It feels really cathartic to get it out of my head and written down where I can look at it almost objectively. I can fix all of this, one good decision at a time inshaAllah.