Seeking an End

Apparently, I'm a 'control freak'. I stifle people's lives. AKA 'The Fun Police'. The priceless medals I get for giving this shit my all. 

Maybe happiness is just a mirage. It doesn't exist - everyone's either delusional, or faking it because they know they will never be able to make it. 

If that wasn't enough, I also 'think of myself as the purest thing there ever was'. 'Miss Never-Wrong.' If only you knew. If only it were possible to know how much wrong there was on the day I maintained my silence. The day I screwed myself over by holding my peace. 

Deluded by the romanticized brain fog that held my senses captive. Lulled by false promises and lured into broken dreams. Broken nightmares is more like it. Nightmares I took upon myself to delve in, to try and find a way out of. For good. 

Yes, that's where I went wrong. I made it my life's mission to 'make things right'. I gave it my all, to receive nothing but incessant criticism and scorn. 

I really don't care anymore. 

I really couldn't give a damn if there's not a shred of respect left for me - the feeling's beyond mutual. Maybe this is where Fate has a different ending. Maybe I'm just not cut for this shit. Lord Knows I'm sick of it.

I've given it my mind, body, and soul. It's still not enough. I'm 'suffocating'. Someone suffocate me, please. That would be the ultimate release, wouldn't it? It would be killing two birds with one stone, quite literally. Much-needed relief, right? 

O' Canada!

Salam Allah 3lykm,

I don't even know where to begin this crazy life update. I don't know how to phrase it into a sentence that won't cause tears to well up in my eyes. I don't know how long it will take, to accept this change as 'reality'. On April 23rd 2019, we officially left the UAE.

At the time, we thought we were just going for a month's vacation - I'd even packed for a month. It was going to be a break from the mundane routine I was stuck in, a breath of fresh air in a cold country, away from the heat and humidity I'd begun to loathe. I never in a million years thought I'd not return?!

Allah truly works in mysterious ways; had I known I was leaving UAE for good, it probably would've had an adverse affect on my mental health. I probably wouldn't have been able to say goodbye to those I miss everyday today. The empty promise, 'See you in a month' gave me hope. It told me that I wouldn't be leaving my comfort zone permanently. It was the safety net that would 'cushion' my fall. Little did I know...

There is no turning back - not for the next three years, at least. And I feel like I wouldn't want to uproot my children if we're settled by then, to have them live the life of an expat. It's a painfully bewildering life, one that has you take so many luxuries for granted. It makes me wonder, was it our ingratitude towards Allah, that resulted in this tumultuous change? 

It's dificult. It's difficult to hear my children say they miss home. They don't know that the UAE could never be home. It's not as simple as, 'home is where the heart is'. It's the biggest deception, yet. It's difficult to have to reply to their exasperated pleas to return home. It's confusing to be asked whether or not they'll ever get their toys again. It's heartbreaking to see them act out in frustration, over why 'we came so far in a plane from Abu Dhabi'.

I don't know if it gets easier with the passage of time. I don't know if I'll ever go to sleep and wake up with the sense of belonging to this land. I don't know if I'll ever stop the incessant comparison between....home and home. I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling that pang of guilt, everytime I look at my watch and realize the timing's been changed. I don't know if this gaping hole in my heart will ever be filled again. I don't know if I'll be able to look past the fact that people will not be able to understand my feelings, and that's okay.

People talk about a brighter future, but does it have to be at the cost of this state of utter confusion? They say that better days are ahead, but why do they have this looming tag of uncertainty? And how can it do one any good, to be so far away from the ones they love? How does one overcome the gloom of helplessness, that sets in at the inability of partaking in their happiness, or lessening their adversity?

All I know is, it's one hell of a challenge I've been dealt. It has me overwhelmed more than half the time, but what doesn't kill you..makes you stronger. I think of all the cliche 'Tumblr' quotes that can possibly come to mind, and even then I feel dejected. I feel like quotes are easier said than acted upon. 

Anyway, I'm tired of feeling so bummed out..which is why I resorted to blogging. I felt like once it's out of my system, I'd probably be able to muster up some positivity, and move on in life. There's no use dwelling on what could have happened. There are definitely a lot of milestones to look forward to, which I wouldn't have reached sitting in my comfort zone. 

May Allah make it easy for all of us to pass our trials in life. May Allah Guide us through the problems we're faced with, and may our Faith never falter. May we never be tempted by what's forbidden, and may we be safeguarded from the ploys of Eblees - Allahumma Ameen.

'Til the next time I fail to 'use the lemons' life throws at me, or the next time I need to sort my own head out - I'd like to leave you readers with one of my fave quotes..which I've probably already mentioned a couple of times around this blog:

"Allah Tests us with blessings, and Blesses us with tests."

A Dark Realm

Salam Allah 3lykm,

What a beautiful day to end my writer's block, with a dark and disturbing piece. How just like me, indeed. 21st Feb, 2019. Our 6th wedding anniversary. Well, it always was my dark side that worked best in writing. After all, this blog has only ever seen negativity. And surprisingly, I've only been able to write when at my worst.

Anyway, with no further ado, I leave you with my latest - 'A Dark Realm'.

PS. Don't try reading into what I write, or making sense of any of it. That's not why I do it. I do it, so people who can relate, know that they're not alone. I don't do it so they start speculating and spinning crap about my life. My writing and my life may or may not be linked - that's really of nobody's concern.

Is love worth it? Is it worth the stress, the anxiety, the pain? The endless suffering: quarrels, being driven insane. Is this what love is, to give and to give...to bleed your heart dry, yet rarely seeing eye to eye? Tell me then, what love isn't. Tell me it isn't a prison where you do the time for your crime, to be forgiven. Is it even guaranteed - a lifetime of bliss, if you pay heed?

"All that glitters isn't gold" - isn't that what we've been told? You see a smile upon a face, do you know what's hidden beneath the surface? You don't know the heart's turmoil, and are blissfully oblivious to the thoughts that boil..thoughts that scald the mind it their wake, feelings that are hard to place.

Words. It becomes increasingly difficult to make sense - everything is jumbled up, incoherent. When your heart and mind fight tooth and nail, you cannot help but watch yourself fail. Your babbling is a source of mockery - "It's not you, it's me."

Speak up! Be heard, Don't let them deem you absurd. Don't let them silence you with their ridicule, DON'T LET THOSE TEARS POOL...!!..in your eyes..stand UP and realize: it's THEM. Not you.

It was NEVER you.

Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh 

Life Lessons

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

It's been too long. Mentally, I haven't been in the best of state these past few days. I'd actually put it down to motherhood; it doesn't work with me. And I don't care about those of you who will read this post, and find yet another thing to mock me over: you're irrelevant. The fact that you clicked on this link, just goes to show you're interested in what I have to say. Curiosity killed the cat, b*tch.

Anyway, long story short..(before the boys wake up, and derail my train of thoughts)...I wrote a poem on Thursday, just because when I reach the point where I have nothing to say to anyone anymore, I've realized it's poetry that gets me out of my funk. And writing. But mainly...poetry. It isn't anywhere near the pieces I have written before, but it did the job. Al7mdlla.

I leave you with, 'Life Lessons' (I couldn't really think of a title that fit, just one more thing my brain is now incapable of, after motherhood. If you guys come up with a befitting one, throw it down in the comments, please! Totally open to suggestions.)

I wasn't made for this world - it's something I've learned the hard way

Unfazed by materialism, to almost everyone's dismay

Crushed under societal standards, suffocated by countless expectations

Trying desperately to scramble on forward, facing resistance from all directions

I've had to put on a front, feigning interest in matters I couldn't care less about

Living life seems like just another stunt, I find myself dreaming a way out of

It's arduous to live as a disappointment, being drained of all your worth

A release would be Heaven-sent, an indemnity for my birth 

I don't know if it's actually finished or not, but this is where I decided to stop. 'Til the next time I need to sort my head out, 

As-Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh 

Is it really just ME?

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

I cannot remember the last time I sat down - without the boys whining by either side - to just vent out my frustrations on this poor, missed-but-never-forgotten blog. I remember I used to do lot of posts without any hesitation at all - just putting my scrambled thoughts into words. Now..I hit 'backspace' a lot more than I would like to.

An update on the boys: Eesa is going to be 4 in October, and Mansoor 2, Inshallah. We've all just been really caught up with viral and bacterial infections, since Sept 2017. Mansoor was hospitalized for six days, for pneumonia and an ear infection. I thought I'd actually manage to write whilst cooped up in a hospital room, but those days mainly consisted of a shit-load of diaper + outfit changes..and oh-SO-MANY-needles. He's a proper little trooper, though..Mashallah. Made it right through the war zone that his little body had turned into, Al7mdlla. 

I've forgotten what I sat down to write, because of all the intervals I've taken to sort the boys out. I cannot imagine what working mothers go through, especially those who actually manage to work from home. Home, where the little terrorists, also known as 'their offspring', reside. Motherhood's no joke. I still don't understand why some women willingly give up their freedom and sanity for it all. Or maybe it's just me - I never wanted to have kids to begin with. Do I want my children to know they weren't wanted? No, not really. I just feel like it's not them - it's me. I'm not cut out for this shit.

So, I finally have them settled down..sharing building blocks, instead of launching them at each other. A proud parental moment, I'd like to believe. I feel like whatever they are, is the result of R7mah, and my mother's prayers. I have nothing to do with their achievements; Eesa's nearly 4, yet still in diapers. That says enough. The boy is terrified of sitting on the toilet. 

Then I ask myself: if I'm not cut out for motherhood, then what is it that I'm meant to do? I don't know. I'm SO sick and tired of being told I'm 'wasting' my 'potential', my 'talent', my 'mind' - oh, PLEASE. What mind?! The one that's 'short-circuiting' because of all the shit it's been put through?! I suffer from anxiety now. That's what's new. Anxiety attacks.

Oh my God. I sound like a menopausal crone, but I seriously need to turn my life around..before it's too late. My only purpose in life cannot be laundry, and other mundane house chores that could easily be taken over by a maid. If I need to raise these boys into two, decent men, I need to have something to be able to escape to, once in a while...a 'safe haven'. 

My only concern is, am I the only one who thinks this way? Am I a monster, for not deeming my children worthy enough to be the purpose I live for? Motherhood is SO hard and frustrating. I read Instagram posts of other mothers, and they always mention how, 'It's all worth it'. Do they really never wish they'd embraced motherhood? Is it really just me?

And on that bombshell, I better stop writing. My 1 year old has climbed right under my chair, and has gotten himself stuck there. And even though I feel like I should leave him there to figure how to get out of there himself.......oh okay. Ice-cold slabs pawing my stomach right now. Guess someone got hungry trying to find his way out. 

'Til next time, or next year...considering my track record, 

Wes Salam 3lykm W R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh

A Painful Fate

Salam 3lykm,

This is something I wrote a few days ago, whilst waiting in the dentist's office with no Wi-Fi. The Middle East needs to catch up on the rest of the world, when it comes to the Internet. Waiting on Elon Musk, for free Internet worldwide!

That said, I'll leave you to peruse my thoughts...give you a little 'teaser' - if you will - of what my heart and mind have been subjected to, and probably will be subjected to, for life. Sounds like a death sentence, and feels like one, too.

Anger. That's exactly what I feel. Blind rage, for being taken advantage of. Emotionally, mentally, physically. The more I think about it, the more it burns. And the more it burns, the more I curse my existence.

Yet again, used. The cycle repeats itself, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I was hooked. Subconsciously, my brain detected the similarities...why, though? Why go through it all over again? Then again, I didn't choose it for myself this time. It was chosen for me.

Do I hold on, anticipating change? Or do I pretend to, in revenge? Do I let go just when I'm expected to stay? Or do I just play dead? And hope somewhere in between, it turns into reality?

Selfish

Salam 3lykm,

This post is going to be different. It's going to be like a 'one-take': raw, and unadulterated. It's going to be depressive, so if you've been looking forward to seeing something cheerful pop up on my blog, this is the time to hit the 'x' button on your browsers.

There's not going to be any fancy editing, because really..it just adds more pressure to my already-pressurized mind. I'm like a ticking bomb. It is what it is: free writing. Dont expect any literary wonder either; I need this for MY sanity right now, so if you think this might give you some sort of  reassurance, I highly doubt it will. You still have time to hit 'x'.

I have two beautiful sons, yet when mothers gush about living for their children, or through their children..I cannot understand. Here I am, praying that I don't live for long, so my children don't have to endure my presence. I find myself looking forward to leaving them motherless, not because I'm shirking away from my responsibilities, but because I feel like I'm raising psychopaths. After all, how can someone with anxiety be trusted to raise a normal human being?

My anxiety attacks have started to become more frequent; I'm literally a nervous wreck all the goddamn time. Not exactly the most pleasant person to be around either, I'd imagine. What once used to be a daunting fear, I've now come to terms with: failure. After all, you can't really run away from Fate...can you?

I'm so tired of trying to explain myself to people; scratch that, I'm exhausted. I feel so drained, physically..mentally..emotionally, I really just want to switch off, and never feel a thing ever again. I feel like I wasn't made for this world; I hate it with all my being. I hate deceit. And I hate it even more, when it comes from those you are closest to.

I'm at a point where I never want to see certain people in my life ever again. Especially in the Hereafter. You've caused me so much pain; stay away, please. You've made me feel so inadequate; you've made me feel like I was at fault, when it was really all...YOU. As I type this, I feel like I have this ball in my throat...except it feels like my heart. Not a ball. What does it mean? What does any of it mean?

Love is a nightmare. I've gone through hell and back, except I feel like there's no coming back. It's a black hole. It always has been, and probably will always be. I've lost myself time and time again, to love. Let's say, if love was alive, I'd bludgeon it to death with a blunt object.

I have fantasized about running away, switching off all forms of contact with the world. Running away 'til I look back, and see nothing. Running away 'til I'm blinded by sweat, and regurgitating bitter bile, in an attempt to purge myself of the memories left by love. I want to start afresh, a clean slate.

I want to start with not having any emotions, ever. I'm sick and tired of feeling...make me heartless. I wish I could wave a stylus - and like a comic illustrator - turn my character into a heroine in charge of her emotions. I would start by never being fazed, especially by those she loves. Because they are the ones who deliver the lowest blows to the heart.

I'm tired. My eyes are finally closing, and if I don't sleep now....I'll be a momster again to my precious babies. How my heart aches, everytime those soulful eyes look up at me in confusion, when 'Mama gets mad'. How wretched I feel, when I see tears streaming down their chipmunk cheeks....because 'Mama cannot understand'.

I'm going to turn to free writing, in an attempt to rid myself of what feels like depression. It's weighing down upon me..ever so heavily, and all I want to do....is let it consume me. But I will fight. If anything, I'll NOT do it for my children, or loved ones. I'll do it for the one who deserves better, but has FOREVER been prioritized last: ME.

'Til next time, Reader...I bid thee, 'Farewell'.

My Subtle Declaration

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

Every post, I begin with how I thought I didn't have it in me anymore..this isn't to say I consider myself a great writer, but it seems like I'm always going to have something to fall back on, lest I lack someone to lean on someday. 

I sat in the corridors of my apartment, (unaware of how friggin' cold the tiles were, 'til I had to get up) scribbling away the thoughts that were beginning to eat me alive. Until today, I thought I had forever lost the ability to turn my thoughts into words, for fear of being judged. Or ridiculed. Maybe I'd subconsciously shut off the ability to do so, because I didn't want to accept any alternative to the life I had once dreamt of, and written about. I still find myself hesitant, hitting 'backspace'...as I ponder the consequences of my written words. Once this post is up, it is a known fact that it will never be altered...let alone deleted. 

On a sidenote, I read some posts I wrote a long time ago...and realized I don't even know who I am anymore. I contradict everything I once thought I'd be. My aspirations have been shot to hell, and everyday is now spent in regret. My tears have long dried up, and my spirit has slipped into a coma so deep, I fear I've reached a point of no return. 

I fear my thoughts, I really do. I have tried relentlessly to push them away, because once they are out..they might will distort my reality. But.........and it's a BIG but - I'm not living to love anymore. I'm just another prisoner of life, slashing days off as they come to a mundane end. I wish I could turn back the hands of time; I swear, I would be in a different place, far away from here.

My entire life flashes right before my eyes, as I think of every single life decision I entrusted a complete traitor with. Then I wonder about the million others who have suffered consequences worse than mine. 

How many lives have been ruined, how many hearts have been stomped upon...for the sake of 'In God we trust'? Which God were we being asked to seek, whilst a blindfold was being tightened, like a noose around the neck? Which God were we being told to turn back to, whilst our minds were being put to sleep? 

Mind games and manipulation, used to subdue and enslave people, turning them into nothing but minions. Minions who will literally bring the world to them at their feet,at the hefty price of their own lives, and the lives of their loved ones. 

Some of my thoughts may not make sense to many, but to those who have been swindled at the name of Islam, I sympathize with you. Those who have been maimed by a double-edged sword at the name of Islam, just remember: 

وَلَا تَحْسَبَنَّ اللَّهَ غَافِلًا عَمَّا يَعْمَلُ الظَّالِمُونَ ۚ إِنَّمَا يُؤَخِّرُهُمْ لِيَوْمٍ تَشْخَصُ فِيهِ الْأَبْصَارُ

Feelings

Salam 3lykm,
I can always count on my blog to save me through the darkest nights, even if I've neglected it for a year. I'm coming close to 3 months postpartum; Mansoor is going to be 3 months old on the 3rd of December, Inshallah. So now, I'm a mother of two handsome boys, Al7mdlla. Even then, things aren't always as they appear..with that said, I leave you with my latest musings, written in the quiet of the night, after everyone had gone to sleep.

Let's cut to the chase; being a mother of two, I don't have much time to myself. But this post isn't about motherhood; it's about me. It's to help me unscramble the mess my mind is, to 'de-clutter'.

Time and time again, I feel so alone. And in this loneliness, my thoughts haunt me and taunt me. I feel like I've exhausted myself, trying to run after loved ones..proving myself to those who have - and always will - doubt me.

I feel like when I look around, I see familiar faces..but no one I can share unadulterated thoughts with, for the fear of being judged..for the fear of being mocked, and for the fear of having them used against me. 

Fears. They seem to be the noose that's tightening around my neck. I feel so drained, because of overthinking and over-analyzing every word I utter or type. I feel like shutting myself in, indefinitely. I feel like escaping from my life; taking a hiatus from all my responsibilities, and sinking into the dark depths of nothingness. I feel like there's no one who understands me, because I've yet to understand myself.

I feel so lost, like a person who's just been thrown off a ship, right in the middle of the ocean. I have no life-jacket or lifesaver, and trying to stay afloat is becoming increasingly difficult cumbersome. Unnecessary. 

It would just be a lot easier to close my eyes, and let gravity take over. It would just be a lot easier to leave my limbs limp, and let the waves swallow me up..finally show me what's beneath the surface. It would just be a lot easier to succumb to the mighty ocean, instead of battling it, and facing defeat.

رَبَّنَا ظَلَمْنَا أَنْفُسَنَا وَإِنْ لَمْ تَغْفِرْ لَنَا وَتَرْحَمْنَا لَنَكُونَنَّ مِنَ الْخَاسِرِينَ

و السلام عليكم و رحمة الله تعالى و بركاته

Fleeting Moment

Salam Allah 3lykm,

Blogging. I miss hammering the keys furiously when in a state of blind rage. I miss pouring my heart out, not giving a damn about the criticism that is harbored in hearts void of compassion; hearts ridden with malice so venomous, it devours them. To hell with it all; 'not to write' isn't an option; 'not to write' is suicide.

Appreciation bears no cost, yet it is withheld by the iron-fisted. Dreams are drowned by endless tears, and smiles are swallowed up by fear of the unknown. Fear of what atrocities are about to be committed; fear of becoming prey. Prey to the stone-hearted; prey to savages, prey to the whim-driven.

I'd like to run away right now, from everything and everyone; push every single loved one away, before they get hurt by my bitter words.  

It's that fleeting moment in life when I feel like the walls around me are caving in, crushing my ribs, making every other breath impossible. That moment when 'safety' loses all meaning, and you feel exposed to the snarling wolves of this world, waiting to rip you up into pieces. That moment when every loved one's reassurance sounds like hypocrisy laced with mockery - acid on open wounds. That fleeting moment when Eblees maliciously empowers both heart and mind , at the edge of victory -- when ذكر الله shoves The Eternally Damned away. 

 - أَلَا بِذِڪۡرِ ٱللَّهِ تَطۡمَٮِٕنُّ ٱلۡقُلُوبُ -

Inner-peace is just a heartbeat away, amidst the turmoil of a bloody war; all harm is kept at bay by ذكر الله.

و السلام عليكم و رحمة الله تعالى و بركاته

To Write or Not to Write

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

Life is ridiculously fast-paced; December's already here, and 2013 is about to come to an end in less than 30 days. Surprisingly, my 'inner poet' sprung awake today after a long slumber; once again, all scrambled thoughts. I don't think anyone will be able to understand the actual meaning behind what I've written, which is okay. 

Do I have what it takes to survive, or will this struggle be the death of me? This is taking a heavy toll on my life, and is eating away at my sanity. 

Should I leave, I will probably be replaced. Staying would only cause grief, having left the greatest solace.

I don't want this to be my biggest regret; I need some time to recuperate. As blissful as it might get, it takes great strength to accept your Fate. 

Only ink knows the scars etched into my heart; tales of betrayal, hypocrisy, and hate. 'Reading between the lines' is merely a start; only my Lord knows of my truest state.

Ink spills over as I try to make sense of my internal battles; forming words and sentences snaking like chains and shackles. Do I really gain 'freedom', as I write my troubles down? Or is this just a medium that'll have me shackled to the ground?

Will sentences I write of my struggle, be held taut against my neck? Will my attempt to salvage sanity be the shovel, that buries me under dirt with the dead?

Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh

Solitude

Salam 3lykm,

Miss me? 'Course not. Well, I'm back with more, anyway. Like it and read it, or save your breath 'n' beat it. Okay no, that was rude of me..I'm sorry. Nah, not really. Annnnyyyyywaaayyyy..here's what I wrote last night. Just some more bottled up thoughts that needed to be released, really.

I will never feel like I belong, because I don't. I will always run towards solitude for comfort, knowing that the world will only taunt me for sharing my heart's pleas. I refuse to be labeled a 'control-freak', thus my lips shall remain sealed, & I will not allow myself to become involved.  

All I want is some certainty that puts a smile upon my face. All I want is freedom; the freedom to run away from time to time, in search of what needs to be sought. Don't restrict me, don't constrain me, don't hold me down.  

Let me be; let me revel in my solitude, as my thoughts take the shape of letters. Letters that form words and string into coherent sentences. Sentences that depict the critical state I've reached, and want to flee. 

Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh  

Split

Salam 3lykm,

Who reads this blog, anyway? It would be nice to hear from silent readers, if any. Anyway, I'm back with a poem; you won't understand it, so don't try to 'read between the lines'. It's just a depiction of my very scrambled thoughts, which I can't share with anyone, for the fear that..they might assume something is wrong.

Nothing's wrong; can't a married woman voice her doubts from time to time? I mean, that would ensure she wouldn't dwell on them, as they wouldn't be in her mind, then. Right? Am I making any sense? I don't know. I am to myself. I think.

We've all said this cliché sentence, or at least..thought it: I don't know who I am anymore. Maybe it's just all a part of 'growing up'; you inevitably change, whether you want to or not. Whether you realize it or not. Whether you try to stop it or not. 

Just..don't try to analyze what I'm trying to say 'between the lines', okay? Maybe I'm trying to scream something significant; maybe I'm not. Maybe it's just the remnants of what my brain cells have managed to squeeze out, after being abused by the junk I've relentlessly exposed them to. I don't know.

This is just another poem that makes no sense; read it, and think nothing of it. I leave you with, 'Split'.

Holding on to the fragments of my past
Fearing the worst, while faced by Reality
Some days find me steadfast
Whilst others threaten my sanity

I have failed to accept certain change
Resorting to a life of pretense
It sounds a lot more than just 'strange'
To some, it won't even make sense

Who is the stranger I see in the mirror everyday?
Does she have what was once mine?
Or is she the one who threw it all away
Whilst Reality deceptively drew its blinds?

Remember, don't try and analyze it..but feel free to leave a comment if you want to. Anonymously or not.

And if you want this blog to be updated a lot more frequently, let me know. I might just manage to start writing again. If not, let me know as well..but that won't stop me. Just sayin'.

Still Breathin'

Salam Allah 3lykm,

It's been a while, as usual. This is going to be a post of unadulterated therapy; I have SO MUCH SHIT going on inside my head, it has all my vitals going quirky. I've yet to move in with Bu3awas; yes, it's been a year, and counting. No, I have no bloody idea when it's going to happen. But it better be soon, or else Bu3awas will have to come get me from KSA.

Yes, that's right. My dad's retiring in February, which means..this ends my parents' stay in the UAE. I don't want to come to terms with it, because AD has always been home. The place where we live, it holds A LOT of memories; it holds my entire life. I was 5 when we moved to this apartment, & I am hoping it'll be the place where Bu3awas FINALLY takes me home from, but I no longer have any expectations. 

To those who think he doesn't exist, I'm tempted to swear at them 'til people begin to suspect I have Tourettes, because you have no goddamn idea how much stress I've endured, & continue to do so..during this predicament. I feel like tearing their hearts out of their chest, with a blunt knife..but even THAT won't suffice to match the pain I've suppressed within me. I would pray for you to go through it, so you'd realize how bad it is, & think twice before you allow the shit you're full of to pollute the environment, but no. I pray you live blissfully with your spouses, in this world and the Hereafter. 

I don't know what's going to happen; I've stopped hoping 'I'll move out soon'. I've not even mentioned the 'resident visa' issue, and I think it's best I don't. Let's just say, I don't belong anywhere, by 2013. Welcome to the life of an expat.

With uncertainties so huge, I don't look forward to moving in anymore. I literally feel dejected at this point; part of me prays I don't live to see my 24th birthday. I'm being ungrateful; others have it worse, I know. But give me that 'optimistic' shit, when you've been in this very shit-hole. At this point, I don't know whether to be appreciative of those who thought of this 'brilliant' marriage plan, or to hate them. Maybe I'm being childish, but bear with me here. I've held all this mahoosive load in me for over a year. Cut me some slack; friends who never even thought they'd get married, have kids now or are pregnant..while I sit here. "Good comes to those who wait" Yeah, unless death reaches 'em, first. But I suppose that's 'good', too. For those who have actually prepared for their journey onwards to their final abode.

And then those..I can't even think of profanity appropriate enough to define them..god-forsaken people who keep asking, "When's the wedding?" Go die, please. Does it really look like I give half a slither of a petrified log of SHIT about a WEDDING? Yeah, one and a half year later of being a bloody 'BRIDE', you expect me to doll up for you, & perch myself on a stage..so I can be oggled at? NO! SCREW YOU. My parents are uprooting their whole life, & going somewhere where they STILL won't have a proper base; somewhere where they have NO FRIGGIN' SOCIAL STATUS because of RACISM, NOT NATIONALISM..and you're wondering when the hell they're going to throw a fancy bash for your goddamn entertainment??

They'll STILL be EXPATS there; they STILL won't have a place to SETTLE down. In their 50-60s. WHAT KIND OF LIFE IS THIS? The life of a goddamn EXPAT. We basically have no stability; our own country is ruled by criminals, & the funny thing is..those who rule it, live OUTSIDE the country itself. YES, THAT'S HOW GODDAMN SCREWED OVER IT IS. We can't even think of going back there, because that's like saying, "Oh yes, let's go live in a garbage dump which is ruled by a bunch'a criminals."

I'm infuriated; I can't control anything in my life..not even the slightest thing. Then, I have all these teenagers coming up to me, telling me what to do with my life. With all due respect, go graduate from high school/university, then come share your wisdom with me.

Meanwhile, I think I'm just going to excuse myself and dig a grave, and wait for the Angel of Death to come along..because I don't see things getting any better; they're only getting progressively worse. Oh wait, no..I can't do that. I'm going to be an illegal immigrant soon. Thank you, Nationalism.

Soul-deep

Salam Allah 3lykm,

It's been AGES since I last wrote a poem; so long, that I thought I definitely don't have it in me now. Well, I was wrong..thankfully. I leave you with my latest, "Soul-deep". I would like to remind all readers NOT to jump to assumptions about my life, after reading my poetry; thank you.

I love, yet it's all in vain
Countless are the tears I've cried
I fail to think it's worth all the pain
Yet, taking it all in, I've persistently tried

I'm not one to sit in denial
I'm not one to put with it all
I would've overcome this hurdle
Had I not been the one to fall

My feelings have been cast away
All consideration tossed aside
With a bludgeoned heart, I'll play
The role of a 'blissful bride'

Ws Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh

Sleepless

Salam Allah 3lykm

No, I'm not a 'live-in wifey'; yes, I realize I've broken my vow not to write 'til I became one. No, I couldn't do without blogging; yes, it does keep me from going insane, contrary to popular belief. Yes, I'm still alive, fortunately or unfortunately.

My Twitter privileges have been revoked, yet once again, but it was a unanimous decision. They don't realize how it was preventing my breakdown, how something as insignificant as a social network held me up..and yes, I realize how pathetic it seems as I read what I've typed, but that's me. Writing gives me solace, & it's being taken away from me.

Instead of giving me any comfort, they're tightening the noose around my neck. Good enough, I suppose. Pretty much fed up at this point of my own existence. Seems like I'm the root of all evil; kill me already, please. No, I'm not suicidal. 

Okay, 'nuff said. I was only going to post what I wrote today morning, not vent out frustrations. I love my blog; sadly, it's the only thing that's been around when the only place I've wanted to be is in my grave. It keeps me together; prevents me from lashing out on those who pull me apart. 

Oprahs & Dr Phils of the East, keep your grubby paws off my blog, honestly. Go revel in your little bubble of happiness, where nothing goes wrong, and let me wallow in self-pity. Yes, in short..

F*** off. 

I'm awake, but I'd like to fall asleep forever. I cannot take the pain in life, I've become. Tears now fail to wash the messy turmoil my heart's in. I blindly gave myself away completely, without assessing my losses.

What I say or do holds no worth; I should have held on to myself, so I would've had one less a conflict to deal with today. Instead, all I have is the bitterness of failure, lacing my tears. All I have is a heartache, and doubts tightening around my neck, suffocating me like a criminal on death-row. 

I can't sleep forever, but I can pretend. Just like I pretend to be happy. I've perfected pretense well enough to fool myself into believing everything's alright, when it clearly isn't..

When you end up crying yourself to a troubled sleep, nothing's right. When you wake up in tears, and spend the entire day holding them back, only to let them flow when your head hits the pillow..

You realize you've lied to, & cheated NO ONE, but YOURSELF.

Distance

Salam 3lykm

You didn't really think I'd actually stop blogging while I'm on my vacation, did you? When have I ever done that?._. I'm currently in Rya'9 for the night, and as usual..in the need of some serious therapy. Thus, I turn to my trusty blog. It's honestly been the greatest life partner; call me a whack-job, but it is really the only one after Allah of course, that has been around for the worst downfalls in life. I rephrase, the best life partner.

Yes, now that we've established how insane I really am, let me leave you with my latest, 'Distance'. I wrote this late last night, when I was annoyingly sleepless in Madinah.

Distance is that leap taken, to bridge a widening gap..yet it is also the criminal, accountable for countless severed relationships.

It is that which is known to make hearts grow fonder, yet it is greatly renowned for also making them wander.

It is that which seldom helps put an end to a domestic spat, yet it is also the culprit that many a times triggers it.

It is a good samaritan, yet alas..it is also a notorious convict on death row, with a noose tightening around its neck.

Distance and negative thoughts are successful accomplices, that eventually erode their prey's senses, then finish 'em.

Leave Me Be

Salam 3lykm,

I'm in a very dark and dreary place right now, not to mention, low. Yes, and I'd advise all the Dr. Phils and Oprah Winfreys of the East to stay clear from my path..just stay the hell away for your own damn good. I know patience reaps reward, and all that good stuff..but right now, leave me be. This is my domain; you like my therapy, you're welcome to stay. You don't..what the hell are you still doing on my blog??

Recently, my solution to all those who have been getting on my nerves is, well..shove 'em outta my life. I kid you not, I'm not taking nonsense from anyone. You take me as I am, and if you don't like what you don't see, then you're not livin' reality. I'm tired of everything around me; it's just come to a point where I'm beyond fed up of everything, if that's possible.

I reiterate, if there are any Dr Phils or Oprah Winfreys of the East in the house, keep your suggestions and advice where they belong: to your damn self. Let me revel in the darkness of this abyss, please.

I gave you my everything; I opened my heart up to you, and gave you a lot more than you deserved within what seems like a blink of an eye. I just wish that's how long the pain of not being on the receiving end, lasted.

Here I find myself hoping the 'Unpredictable' would occur; my heart would stop and my lungs would collapse..ceasing my breathing. Enough with all these goddamn uncertainties; even my supposed 'near future' is just one big, fat question mark.

Get over with it. I'm pretty much one helluva nuisance, anyway. You deserve appreciation and contentment..support, too. Evidently, I've rarely offered you anything but endless headaches, nightmares, and - not to mention - confusion. Something tells me..it would have been a wiser move on your part, to call in the quits.

PS. For the information of all those sick and twisted 'well-wishers' out there: no, I'm NOT in an unhappy marriage. If I was, you think I'd broadcast it to the world, and let you diseased b*****ds rejoice with satisfaction over my misery? Haha, dream ON.

Bearer of Pain

Salam 3lykm,

Just a little something I wrote last night; one of my usual 'dark and twisty' pieces; nothing to worry about. Not everything I write has a logical explanation behind it, and even if it does..if I don't mention it, please don't ask for it. If it isn't already stated, what makes you think I'll tell you afterwards?:'| Leaving you with, 'Bearer of Pain':

You and the rest of the world, are in oblivion of the pain I bear everyday. Once upon a time not very long ago, you were the sole source of my smiles, my happiness..the sparkle in my eyes.

Why did you have to take that away from me? What did I ever do to you, to deserve such cruelty? I only showered you with love and affection. Is that really such a heinous crime, that you felt it was worth the happiness..that made me glow from within?

I only wanted to fulfill my dream of a life filled with love, bliss, and harmony. Was that so bad? Couldn't you have played along, at least? Was it really necessary for you to callously toss my heart aside; a heart bearing wounds flesh-deep..?

Couldn't you have thrived on my high, instead of crushing it so heartlessly? There was enough for both of us..why did you take it all away? And if you really wanted to, why didn't you make sure you left my heart DEAD? Why leave it writhing with just enough life..to feel the excruciating pain surge within?

Ws Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh

Woes of Silence

Salam 3lykm,

I'm in the most rotten of all moods today. I feel so disconnected, so incredibly antisocial..not the best thing for a Thursday afternoon, eh? Knocked off nearly 20 BBM contacts who will either be relieved or really, really pissed at me. Couldn't give a damn, really. Fed up beyond belief.

Dunno whether it's the atmosphere that's finally getting to me, or I'm just sick and tired of pasting a goofy grin of oblivion on my face. It could also be both, really. Oh-so-#$%^&*(-fed up. Anyway, I did my usual late-night scribbling yesterday; I'm not explaining any of my writings..take 'em as you will. I've just written this out as therapy, so right now..I'm just taking it as it's all between my blog & I. For now, you Readers fail to exist.

Silence. That's all I ever hear from you, & it kills me a little more on the inside everytime. Then, you leave me to dwell in it..probably hoping I'll get accustomed to it; instead, the opposite happens.

Disheartened. Don't get me wrong; I understand you have a life to live, & other commitments to fulfill. So do I. So does everyone else. Isn't that what life's all about? I've tried really hard to see things from your perspective..but I fail. Miserably. It just doesn't add up..or make sense. Not only to me, but really, just..everybody.

Tired. I'm so goddamn tired of waiting on sleepless nights, while you slip into a peaceful slumber. Do you not think for once that maybe..just MAYBE..my 'insomnia' is deliberate? Maybe..it's not even insomnia; I force it upon myself, senselessly hoping you'd 'chase' it away..? But sadly, you rarely do.

Judge, assume, mock..& once you're just about finished, do the world a favor & jump off a goddamn cliff. Thank you, in advance.