Wednesday, July 15, 2015

A Heartfelt Apology

I want to tell you about a girl who loves a man. He means the world to her. He consumes every single corner of her mind, and even more so, in her heart. His place is not meant to be in her heart and yet she placed him there. She placed him in the void that is suppose to be filled with her love for Allah. She knew this, but she still did it even though she knew it was wrong.

More than a year has passed and they've created intimate memories, loving moments, found comfort in each other and saw a future together. It was never enough though, for the both of them. There will always be something that is wrong and fights that will lead to a break or bring the girl to tears and the man in anger. The girl knew why, though. She knew deep down that the void inside of her, that is suppose to be filled by Allah, is filled with someone who is not suppose to be there.

She loved him. Oh, and how she loved him. She still does. The generosity he gives her, the support he bestowed upon her when she is feeling low, the comfort he gives her when she is feeling sad. The kindness he shows to people who are in need, the way he can bond with children with ease. The responsibility he shoulders when it comes to his family, the way he is driven with ambition and how he has a strong hold on his principles. All of these are only a fraction of why she loves him with all her heart. But she knew what was right. And their relationship is not right in the eyes of Allah. She knew the step that has to be taken in order for their future to be blessed if they're destined to be together. I mean, why would Allah bless a couple when they've done so many haram things together?

And so, during Ramadan, the girl weeped to God. She pleaded Him to pardon her and the man. She asked Him to have mercy upon them and asked Him to give her the strength to remove the man from the void inside of her heart. She asked Allah to allow herself to love the man because of Him and because of Islam, not because of her nafsu. She prayed istiqarah in the middle of the night, and although she is still unsure if the man is her jodoh or not, she knew that them ending their relationship is the right thing to do. For him, for her, for their akhirat.

Oh, how she wished it wasn't so painful when she finally found the courage to do the right thing. Admittedly, she chose the most unfortunate of times to bring it up. And now he is in a state of anger and probably hates her more than his enemies. She is not leaving him because they fight a lot or because some words he throws at her are hurtful. It's not because he went out with another girl alone. It is not because of his actions or words that drove her in deciding to break up with him. She can handle all of that and has handled them before.

She loves him too much to know that she is the cause of his sins. She loves him so much to the point where she wants to see him be among the people by her side while they enter Jannahtul Firdous (Insya Allah) and that he is one of the first five people she prays for Allah to forgive his sins and to bless him and his family endlessly. She loves him so much until she is willing to let him go because of Allah, even though it feels as if her heart is torn out of her chest. She loves him too much to the point where she wants to take back her words and beg him to take her back.

But she knows this is the right thing to do.

And so she hopes they can still be friends, that he will still know that she will still be there for him, that he and his family have always been and will always be in her prayers. And Insya Allah, if he still has feelings for her, if they are destined to be together, if she is the kind of wife the man desires to have (mind you, she isn't even close to half of what a Muslim wife should be!), then Insya Allah she will be waiting for him. "Gardens of perpetual residence; they will enter them with whoever were righteous among their fathers, their spouses, and their descendants. And the angels will enter upon them from every gate, [saying], 'Peace be upon you for what you patiently endured. And excellent is the final home'" (Surah Ar-Ra'ad, Ayat 23-24). And she prays that both she and the man will be greeted by Angels just as was mentioned in the Al-Quran.

For now she will pray that the man will forgive her for all the wrongdoings she has done to him. For bringing up the topic of "breaking up" at a time when he needs someone. For every pain, she has caused him and she hopes he will forgive her for doing this. And she hopes he won't find her pathetic and understand that she really is doing this for the both of them and primarily, for Allah. He is and will always be that kind hearted guy who captured her heart back in 2013. He is still the most generous, loving, kindest and most handsome man she is still in love with.

I love you panda, superman, bubu, sweet cheeks, honey cakes. I love you and I'm sorry, sayang.

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Constant Void

It feels as if a lead is lodged into my heart. As if my heart is so heavy and painful that it's dragging onto the ground. And when I think about it, it's as if a blunt knife is twisted in my heart. It's not because it's the same girl that he's out with. What makes me feel so hurt, is because he's doing it again. As if he has forgotten how I felt last year when he did it. As if he has forgotten what he went through trying to apologise to me. As if he has forgotten what he said that night while comforting me. "I won't go out with another girl alone anymore. How do you feel if you were to follow me if I need to see a girl?" But a month after saying that, he said that he wanted to have breakfast with only her.

Granted, we were fighting a lot during that time. Plus, he told me that he doesn't make promises if he knows he can't keep them. Maybe he said those words to make me feel better, I don't know. And I know he won't cheat on me, ever. It doesn't mean I won't feel hurt.

And, to be honest, what also makes me so sad, sadder than him choosing to do something that will hurt me, is that I find so many flaws inside of me to the point where I think it's understandable why I feel so much pain over this. I've always wanted a husband who understands that in Islam, you must not be alone with another woman who is not your wife, mother, grandmother, sister or daughter. That there must be a respective distance between you and the person of an opposite sex. Yes, you're in a public area where people can see what you are doing. But if someone were to see my husband with another woman, laughing and smiling together, they might think that my husband is cheating on me. They might tell me and it will create tension between me and my husband. He might say it's nothing, but I will not know exactly what he feels on the inside. I've dreamt of having a husband that will love me because of Allah, and every soft spot in his heart will be for me because it is not right to have a soft spot for someone who is again, not your wife, mother, grandmother, sister or daughter. Because these soft spots can develop into deaper feelings if you allow them to exist. I've dreamt of a husband who will respect me and will put me as his third priority. First being Allah, second being his mother, and thirdly me, as his wife. I've dreamt of a husband who will invite me to pray together, who will lead the prayer because he knows it is his duty and we would deepen our knowledge of Islam together. A husband who will be the leader of the family, especially in an Islamic perspective. I've dreamt of a husband who can be even a fraction of how Nabi Muhammad (SAW) was as a husband to all his wives. So what is making me so, so sad? To the point where I was brought to tears?

 Because I don't think I am worthy of a husband like that.

Do I deserve a husband like that if I myself am unsure that I will treat him the way that I want him to treat me? At this moment I am not respecting my future husband, even if (insya Allah) it is H. I am not respecting my mother, my father (although he doesn't deserve it), Nabi Muhammad (SAW), Allah (SWT). I am not respecting myself by being so intimate with a man who is not my husband! Sure, I've stopped myself from contacting my male friends and from meeting them alone. But am I doing that with H? I break all my rules for him because I'm so addicted to him, which is not right. That is why the actions he make, the words he uses, are all capable of hurting me. When in actual fact, I don't even have the right to feel hurt because I am not his wife. What is the definition of a boyfriend and a girlfriend in Islam? There are none! It is haram. And how weak I am, how disrespectful I am to Allah by putting another human being in a position where Allah is suppose to be. If the void in my heart is filled with Allah, then I wouldn't feel hurt over the event that is happening right now. I couldn't help but weep, knowing that truly, I deserve feeling this pain. If I loved Allah with all my heart, I would walk away. Even if I am destined to marry H, I would let him go because that is the right thing to do.

To be honest, I am not angry at him. I just feel so, so sad. I know it's important for him to see her. That it involves his future. But there always alternatives. He could talk to her on the phone, or skype with her if need be. And it's true, he has known her longer than me. But if we're married and this happens again, how far are you willing to put a friendship over the woman you love? How far are you willing to let a mere friendship obscure what you know is right and what is wrong? And I'm already feeling so sad, with so many people relying on me. Mama relies on me emotionally and physically. I'm the only one who can listen to her 24/7 and I'm the only one who can run errands for her and cook for the family. And lately I've been the middle person between my parents. My older two sisters rely on me too. They're pregnant, so they need me to drive them around or I have to take care of my niece. Nawal relies on me because I'm the only one who can take care of her, to drive her around. Zayd relies on me when he needs to go out with papa. Come to think of it, when my siblings don't want to see him alone, I'm always the one who has to tag along. It's tiring, and it's eating me up inside. So shouldn't the person I love not cause me more sadness, and instead try his best to make me smile and is always careful to not hurt me?

But again, like I said, am I deserving of a husband like that? Just a couple of weeks ago I broke one of my rules: never be in the car with a male friend alone. Sure, Ben had no transport back. The other guys live in KL and I'm the only one who lives close to him. But I should have asked him to sit at the back at least, where there will be a fair distance between us instead of sitting at the front. No words can describe how regretful I feel. Plus, I've had my fair share of hurting H. I am no saint. Although he has some flaws (definitely lesser than me), he has been such a wonderful anchor for me. A rock for me to lean on when I feel as if I might collapse. And I've become so hurtful towards him, and the words I choose when I'm angry are so unfair. I haven't been there for him because of my family. I can't give him my all (which techinically I'm not suppose to until we're married). I'm not the kind of person he imagines himself married to. So who am I to demand things? Who am I to tell him that he must be a certain kind of husband to me? Who am I to ask someone who is not my husband, to care for my feelings and not hurt them? I have no right. And I must understand that and build the courage to walk away from him.

I just feel so sad. So, excrucuatingly sad. And I don't know how long I can take it being sad or if I can feel more sadness.

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

PS: I just got back my semester results. Lol. I knew I did terrible in Media Studies but I didn't know I did that bad. Haih. Need to work harder next semester.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Midnight Thoughts

Sometimes, when bad things happen, you feel as if life is unfair. That the world is against you and everything you once knew was just an illusion. There must be a reason why all of this is happening, am I right? We just have to go through it.

People normally say that you should go through life's difficulties with your head held up high and your back straight as a rod. However, I think it doesn't matter how you face your difficulties. You might go through it with tears constantly streaming down your face or with your shoulders slumped and your face obscured from view by the curtain of your hair.

As long as you don't give up.

There must be a reason why this is happening to me and my family. I know I've sinned a lot. I know I've made many mistakes in life that I am not proud of. This perhaps could be a way for Allah to show me that I need to change the way I lead my life and how I interact with people. It might also be Allah's way to invite me onto the straight path again because I've diverted so far off.

I just hope I know what I'm doing.

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Thank you, Teacher

I wrote this for a competition back in school, titled "Thank you, teacher".
I didn't win lol.
I found it just now and thought...why not. I'll just post it here.
I was quite shocked when I read it, to be honest. I didn't know I could write (marginally) well haha
However, the story was influenced by stuff I watched on TV and included elements that I am not in favour of in this present day.
Whatever. I was 17.
I hope you like it, stranger. Enjoy!

                  I stared expressionlessly out the window.  Reaching my ears, the words coming out of Miss Lily’s mouth sounded like a buzzing noise that could easily be ignored.  My mind travelled back to a fortnight ago; to the time Mother told me the bad news.  The news brought my whole world crashing down that night.

                  I remembered how Mother crumpled onto the floor when she tried to tell me.  I could not understand the words she was saying because she was gasping for breath as her sobs robbed her of air.  The only thing I heard were whimpers of my father’s name.  I shivered with fright as sadness clutched my heart.  I held Mother tightly and let her stain my shirt with her tears.  As we sat on the floor, the only thing that I could think of was how unfair life was.  How unfair that other kids still have their fathers.  That there was no possibility of them losing their fathers in a war.  Nor in Iraq, for that matter.

                  The next day I found out that I assumed wrongly.  Although, my wrong assumption did not bring any comfort to me, my father did not die.  He was just missing, that was all.  He went missing after a bomb exploded near his team’s campsite, taking all the soldiers in surprise.  There was little chance of Father surviving, though.  Many of the soldiers went missing after the bombing.  Even worse, most of the missing was found dead.

                  I did not tell my friends about my father’s disappearance.  In fact, I ignored them entirely.  They tried to talk to me but did not succeed in gaining my attention.  They gave up after a couple of tries, though.  They did not know how to handle my silence.  For the last couple of weeks, I have been eating less and less.  Ever since that dreadful night, I have forgotten how to live.  As guilty as I felt for not being strong enough for my mother, I could not help it.  The possibility of losing my father was overwhelming.

                  “Jude?  Jude, can you hear me?”  I turned my head to the direction of the voice that was calling my name.  Miss Lily was looking at me with the expression of worry etched onto her face.  I gave a quick glance around the room and noticed the whole class was staring at me.  “Jude, are you all right, love?” Miss Lily asked.

                  I inhaled deeply and gave out a heavy sigh as I told her I was fine.  I then ignored everyone else and continued staring out the window.  I noticed how chilly it was for spring.  The bell rang loudly, bringing me out of my small, little world.  I grabbed my bag, ready to make a quick escape when Miss Lily’s voice stopped me.  “Jude, do you mind giving me a few minutes of your time?”

                  I looked curiously at her and said, “Pardon me, teacher, but I am afraid I might be late for History class.  Mister Andrews does not take tardiness very well.”  Instead of letting me go, she smiled and told me it was no problem.  She will write a letter for me.  She asked me to sit at my usual seat in the classroom and dragged a chair beside my table.  She then just sat there, without saying anything.

                  The tension grew every second, as she scrutinised me and I, in return, looked everywhere except for her.  “Jude, do you mind telling me what is wrong?”  Miss Lily asked.  I told her nothing was wrong.  I told her I was perfectly fine and asked her if she would just let me go to History class now.  She shook her head and mumbled something under her breath.  I could care less about what she was saying, though.  I wanted to leave the classroom desperately.

                  “I know about your father.”  My head snapped towards her and I could feel my eyes widen with shock.  She said Mother told her about it.  “She could not have,” I replied with a slight trace of doubt.  She never talked to me about Father. How could she have mentioned about him to my teacher, of all people?  It is not like I do not like Miss Lily.  It is just that she was always the type of teacher that students do not listen to.  She gets easily bullied by children in this school and is not always taken seriously.

                  “Even your mother needs to tell someone about her missing husband, no matter how depressed she is about it,” Miss Lily softly informed me.  “It is all right to talk about it.  Your mother mentioned of how you refuse to talk about your father.  Do you not see that there might be hope that your father is still alive?”

                  “My father is dead,” I bit back at her.  I hastily turned my head towards the window, hoping she would not see my tears.  A soft hand covered mine and Miss Lily said, “Jude, no matter how bad the situation is, you must have faith and hope.  You are lucky that there might be a possibility of your father’s survival.  Moreover, if you ask me, I am confident that your father is still alive.”

                  I slowly lifted my gaze and stared into a pair of eyes that were filled with confidence and hope.  I nearly crumpled as I whispered, “You do?”  She answered me with a nod and smiled as tears clouded up her eyes.  That was when I started to cry.  However, I did not cry quietly.  Heart-wrenching sobs made their way out of my mouth and I found it hard to see anything through the pools of water coming out of my eyes.  I felt Miss Lily hugging me, telling me everything was all right.  To have confidence that Father would come home.  I did not feel embarrassed that as a 13-year-old boy, I was crying like an infant on the shoulder of my teacher.  All I felt was comfort.  That someone wanted to help me and plant the feeling of hope inside of me.

                  That day, for the first time, I walked back home from school with a sense of calmness.  Miss Lily gave me just what I needed, which were hope and faith.  She made me feel at peace, for the first time in weeks.  I felt a deep gratitude towards her and a ghost of a smile played on my lips.  It had been a long time since I smiled, even if it is the smallest smile imaginable.

                  I swiftly went up the front porch steps with confidence radiating out of me.  I opened the door with my back straight and hope swelling inside of me.  As I hanged my coat on the coat rack, I heard the sound of faint sobs coming out of the living room.  I anxiously made my way across the hallway, ready to comfort my mother. For now on, I wanted to be there for my mother.  However, I stopped in my tracks as I looked into the living room.

                  My mother was standing with someone who was already comforting her.  Her sobs were muffled because that person was hugging her tightly to his chest, not caring that her salted tears were staining his army uniform.  He was crying, too.  The figure then turned around and smiled tearfully at me and said, “Hello, son.”  I cried with joy and ran towards my father, hugging both my parents as we all cried with delight.  Even though my mind was preoccupied with the presence of Father, I could not help but thank Miss Lily for believing in me.  Truly, only the best teachers would believe in their students and help them, even if it does not affect the teachers themselves.  Making sure my parents could not hear, I whispered softly, “Thank you, teacher.”

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

Saturday, June 6, 2015

You Are Alive

She dashed down the dirty path, with rain pelting down on her in a bruised-like force. With fear, she ran from the shadows that fervently chased after her, licking at her feet when it started to catch up to her. Blinded due to the lack of light, she steered off the path and pushed frantically at the branches that were in her way.  In her rush to escape the darkness, the branches broke due to the force she exerted on them. She didn't notice that even though she broke the branches, they still stood against the shadows that tried to catch her. She continued running without a thought to the branches that she hurt and ignored the scratches and dirt that covered her hands as she tried to wipe away the raindrops from her face. Without losing her pace, she peered over her shoulders to see how far she was from the shadows.

The demons were inches away from her.

Her terrified scream was swallowed by the rumbling thunder and the beat of the rain. No one was close enough to hear her. Her tears mixed with the rain and she prayed for someone to save her from the dark abyss that was threatening to engulf her. She tilted her head up (while still running) and tried to look for any signs of being saved.

Suddenly her knees banged onto the ground. Her face slammed against the muddy ground when her hands slipped from her attempt to catch her fall. Stars were dancing in her vision and pain seared all over her body and would not relent when she cried out in vain. With the last of her strength, she rolled onto her back and saw the sinister eyes of the shadows, beckoning her in.

She almost gave in. She almost welcomed the infinite darkness that she was desperately trying to escape. But something made her look up again. Something forced her chin to tilt upwards once more. And as her vision started to clear from the tiny stars, she saw it.

A magnificent, bright light that was going to carry her home.

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

Ignore the grammar mistakes and the atrocious choice of words I used.
I was trying to be poetic while writing this lol.

Monday, May 18, 2015

Every Breath is A Strain

I've been having a wee bit of trouble with breathing lately. That's obviously because I haven't been exercising or watching what I eat. I've been eating excessively for the past month, eating a lot of fried food and chocolates. Even though some people think I always eat junk food, I usually don't.

That is, before this month.

At least I've been eating a lot of fruits. And I also admit, for the past two weeks or so I've been skipping either lunch or dinner because I was swarmed with assignments. Hence, the constant unhealthy snacks because they're easy to bring around and munch on. But not to worry! This gal is now as free as a butterfly. Just for a little while, though.

This weekend has been...interesting. Found out about things that I never knew, discovered a couple of revelations along the way, and finally admitted to myself that I'm still angry. Very, very, undeniably angry.

I always knew that P treated Z differently from me. Since the age gap is very close, we were like a package. Same with N as well (until now we're still addressed as the adik-adiks), but more so with me and Z. Plus, when the second time it happened, the others were away in boarding school so it was just me and Z. So if he wanted to take one of us out when we were young, the other has to follow as well. Nonetheless, even at a young age, he was always scolding Z. He treated me differently, always pampering me and manja-ed me in public. With Z, it's totally different. And the way he scolds Z compared to me...well, I wouldn't call it scolding out of love. However, we've all made the conclusion that he doesn't know how to handle boys compared to girls, especially since he came from a "women-dominated" family. Z told us something that happened when he was young. Something that even M or I didn't know.

Z was around five I think, at that time? And he was playing around with P and Z accidentally hit him in the shin. And as a reflex? P hit Z. A grown man, hitting a 5 year old boy because that child accidentally hit him. There is a difference between punishing a child out of anger and punishing a child because you want to teach that kid important values. And there is NO EXCUSE for punching a little boy, no matter how painful he accidentally kicked you.

When we found out, of course we were all shocked. Z told me that he peed in his pants because he got so scared. And I felt so sad for him, thinking that I should've been there. But then, what exactly could a six year old girl do, against a full grown man? Plus, one time I tried to defend Z against him, he shouted at me and told me not to be such a busy body. And M's reaction? You could hear the sadness, guilt and anger in her voice when Z told us. She has always been protective of Z and by knowing that she wasn't there and the fact that she didn't even know P hit Z? I can't imagine that feeling.

We all know that he has a temper. And that the way he loves, isn't the normal way of loving someone. One time, N wanted to hold his hand when she was about 8, I think? But he just slapped her hand away. Instead, M's best friend's husband held N's hand after he saw what P did. How heart breaking is that? Especially since N needs guidance while walking. And he slapped her hand away? And he said he loves us.

I always thought the reason why Z didn't follow us to the UK when I was three was because he was too young and because we didn't have enough money. I always knew that M regretted leaving Z all alone in Malaysia while we were there. I thought it was because of those normal "mother guilt-feelings". But it went deeper than that. This was when it happened the first time. The first time it happened was right after I was born, apparently. But anyway, I digress.

He was suppose to take care of Z while M, H, B, N and I were in the UK. But instead, he dumped a two year old boy to live at my grandma's house to do God knows what. How irresponsible!! And Z was traumatised! He was always screamed at by O, and when Z sought out for comfort from our maid at that time (she was honestly a blessing. She took such good care of our family when I was born and was our second mother figure), O will yell at our maid and wouldn't let her even hug Z to make him stop crying. Especially since O was the cause of it! That's not how you treat a two year old boy, for goodness sake. I saw the photos of Z when he was staying at O's house. There was a scared look in his eyes, tinged with sadness. His eyes were bloodshot and his smile looked forced. When we all came back, I remembered Z looking at us as if we were strangers. Even though I was really young at that time, I remembered asking my sister, "Z tak ingat? Tak ingat M pun?"

Oh, but he did remember M. And he was angry at her. He refused her affections and cried when she hugged him all night out of guilt. And M didn't know that the three months we spent in the UK, Z was staying at O's house. P lied to her. And she was so furious with him for abandoning Z. And she cried while holding Z the whole night after we came back, while he struggled to get out of her arms. M has always treated us all equally until now. Her love is divided endlessly between all five of us, but sometimes I thought she had this soft spot for Z, almost like guilt. Now I know why. To make things worse, right after we came back from the UK, P straight away told M that he wasn't going to live with us anymore and left us all.

I did question why we were living with Nenek and Yayi when I was young, even though we had a house. One time, when Z was admitted into the hospital because there was phlegm stuck in his lungs, I asked M why were we going back to Nenek's house while P was walking in a different direction towards his car. I don't remember her answer, but now I know. She told me that one time, while my siblings and I were sleeping on the floor in the living room at Nenek's house, Yayi sat on the couch and cried while we slept. And it breaks my heart knowing that. Even though we were not the real cause for his tears, it still pains me that he shed tears for us. And three year old me thought it was perfectly normal that P was not living with us. That he visited the house once in a while, whenever he feels as if he misses us. I thought all families were like that. Gosh, how messed up is that?

(PS: We were living in Nenek's house for a few months because we sold our previous house right after we came back from the UK so we had no where to live while waiting for our current house to be ready. Obviously, P wasn't there to take care of us)

P has always had a temper. Until now. Whenever he got angry, over small things or suddenly he'll burst out, it'll scare us. There's a photo of B when she was around two or one, I think. She was sitting at a corner, with a frightened look on her face when she looked at P. No one should feel that kind of fear towards someone who is suppose to protect you. When M scolds me, I don't get scared until I want to hide out of fear. But when P scolded me when I was young, I would hold my tears while my heart would beat frantically.

We're not scared of him now, of course. We know that we have the strength to protect ourselves, as well as M. Z told us that if P ever touches him again, or his children, P will regret it immensely. I don't doubt that in the least since Z can break someone's wrist in two seconds (he threatened he'll do it to me while he was holding my wrist because I was being super annoying lol). Plus, B and H have the protection of their husbands. So they're no longer tied to him.

It's me and N that M is worried most about. Mostly me. She feels as if I'm the one who will miss P the most. The one who is hurting more than the others. But to be honest? I just don't care. Okay, no. I'm just lying to myself and you by saying that. I'm boiling with rage, that's the truth. This whole business just enrages me. M keeps talking about it 24/7, which doesn't really help with my own mentality. I have become the messenger between P and M, which isn't all that great because this whole situation makes me want to set something on fire.

When will this end?

I feel as if I'll lose my mind every time I think about it in detail, or when I think about the future. It drives me insane whenever I see M sad, especially when I observe her without her noticing. It makes me want to throw something against the wall whenever P thinks it's alright to treat me better than the others. No, that's not how Islam works. You're not suppose to have favourites in your family.

And I feel so pissed off at that other family. Like how freaking stupid can you be stealing someone from another family? Of course, it takes two to tango. He told me that it's between him and Allah. If you truly believe in those words, you wouldn't have done it, out of fear and love towards Allah. "It's complicated", you say? Complicated my arse!! Nothing in this life is complicated if you follow what is instructed by Allah and done by Rasulullah SAW. Would you have done it with Nabi Muhammad by your side? Would you??

Gosh, you're not a leader. You're selfish, and a coward because you let others fight your battle. Sillaturrahim between family members are breaking because of what you have selfishly done! You celebrated this so-called marriage a couple of days after telling your younger children that you've "met someone recently" (Yeah right, recently as in two years is it?). And it was obviously planned before B even got married! That kind of ceremony takes longer than just two days to plan. How lavish you celebrated, while you've broken the hearts of the people you've sworn to protect and cherish and promised to never forsake. How easy it is for you to break your promises, to the people who has the right over your time and money and affections. Let me repeat, you gave OUR rights to people less deserving, who has no hold over you compared to US.

And the sad part? You still don't think you've done any wrong.


I feel guilty, though. With the way I've treated you. As if you're a stranger or a distant relative. This is a test for me, I know. No matter how angry I am at you, I will always pray for you, and may Allah open up your heart and grant you the hidayah that you desperately need.

Haih, so much anger inside of me. I've been sleeping excessively, and stuffing myself with food. And I have no one to talk to. I can't talk to my family members because it'll be even more emotional, since they're involved in this. I don't want to talk to M's psychiatrist because that involves money. Plus I'm lazy and his clinic is so far away lol. Ni, A and S are far away from me. Plus, Ni rarely replies my whatsapp (surprise, surprise). Although I did tell all of them I'm doing fine, even though I am not so it's my fault if they think I'm alright. It's hard when everyone is so far away haih. I barely have any friends in Monash, besides C and Iz, but they're both in second year and we only spend an hour together per week. I sometimes tell H, but I know he doesn't really know what to do when I tell him about it. Or I get angry at him for the advices he gives me. Plus, I don't want him to listen to all my problems. He's already ladened with the difficulties in his life. I don't want to make it worse. It doesn't help that people are telling me about their problems, though. They're still messaging me about mundane things, as if what they're facing will mean so much in the next 5 years, or even the next week! They don't know that the world out there is so, so much more than what is in the tiny little bubble they're living in.

I know that the only One I can turn to is Allah. And I have been handling it quite well so far, in my opinion. Just that it's the time of the month again, so I can't pray or read the Al-Quran and I've just been feeling so lonely. Maybe I need this. To be alone. To find out who I am, to strengthen my bond with Allah and build my principles. I know I'm loved. I know I have my family, and that's enough. Even if people are not there for me, or if I am not in their priority list, that's fine. Because I'm in my own priority list, which is better than any other list (besides Allah's list of course) out there.

Life is so short to be living in sadness. I just pray that all of us will come out of this as contended and successful Muslims. Ameen.

Yours truly,
Lost Mermaid

Saturday, January 24, 2015

A Falling Star

So I wrote this back when I was 16. I wrote it for a semester exam (I think) and my teacher made me read it out in class. Embarrassing, yes. But hey, at least my classmates liked it.
Not exactly the best short story you can find, but like I said, I was 16.
Hopefully I'll write more (and better ones) in the near future.

                  I look up towards the night sky and the stars are blinking at me like little spotlights.  The moon is bright and showers its faint white light around me, as if welcoming me back.  The scenery is exquisite.  I have forgotten how wonderful the night sky is.
                  I remember the last time I came here.  It was with him.  I close my eyes as my mind drifts back to that very day.  It has been months since I thought of him, or anything related to him.  Memories of him are the reasons why I no longer go star-gazing anymore.  At nights like these, I would be covered and wrapped up in my comforter and blankets, surrounded by piles of pillows.  It is my way of secluding myself from the world.  I have never left my safety cocoon for months.  Until tonight.  On top of that I could no longer ignore the calls of the night sky.
                  “It is just one cigarette. Don’t worry yourself.  I just want to try it,” he said as he lighted the thin cylinder of finely cut tobacco rolled in paper while our backs pressed against the hard plane of the tree trunk.  “You trust me, don’t you?  You know I’m just being curious, I hope.”  I pursed my lips before deciding whether to believe him or not.  After all, why would he lie to me?  We were best friends.  I trusted him with my life.
                  The following week, I was walking towards the library and I heard his voice.  I followed it and peered behind the science building.  I caught him lighting up a cigarette with a couple of dodgy looking kids from school.  “What are you doing?” I voiced aloud.  He turned around with a guilty expression.  Instead of denying what he was doing, he defended himself.  “It’s just one more.  Don’t worry about it.  This will be my last cigarette and I promise you it will not make any difference.  You know how stressful exams could be, right?”
                  I looked at him and wondered if I should just ignore the seriousness of the situation before me.  After all, even I was feeling stressed out about exams.  I silently nodded and walked away.  I knew I should have stopped him.  However, I also knew an argument will pursue if I did.  Somehow, at that moment, I felt that walking the other way was the right thing to do.
                  As weeks flew by, we drifted apart.  However, I tried my best to understand his angst behaviour, as he ignored me.  He started hanging out with the same rowdy kids from the other day instead of me.  I felt empty without him.  I was losing my best friend.  While I tried desperately to cling to our friendship, he did nothing.
                  I should have done something.  If I did, I wouldn’t be grieving over him.  I knew he had asthma.  I knew him smoking would pose a great danger towards his life.  I saw him getting weaker every day. All the same, though, I did nothing.  And now he is gone.  Forever. 

I look up and could not help but notice the irony. The glorious sight above me is the opposite of how I feel.  I feel ugly, dirty and most of all, hopeless.  As if a black hole is sucking me out of this world while the beautiful sky is mocking me.  I cannot squelch out the guilt and regret I feel within me.  So, for the last time that night, I look up towards the night sky and said a silent prayer.  Farewell my best friend, farewell my brother.  May you finally find peace.

Hope you liked it!
Lost Mermaid

PS: Idk why, but the font in the third paragraph can't be changed to a lighter colour.
       Tried fixing it, it didn't work. Apologies for the inconvenience!

Something Old, Something New

I haven't written a poem in quite a while.
I'm not that good at it, and I don't really know how.
But I've always loved poetry.
So, hey. Let's give it a go, shall we?
Bear with me.

Such beauty is the star,
Twinkling in the darkness,
Like spotting a lighthouse when
You're lost at sea.

Such beauty is the star,
The warmth and light of it,
Licking across the skin,
As if it will swallow you whole
In its beauty.

Such beauty is the star,
That you can't help but to covet it
And keep it in your hands forever,
Even when its brightness dims
And you're the cause of it.

Such beauty is he,
Like the star,
With me mindlessly attempting
To recover back his light,

Such beauty is he,
That the sheer thought of him
Gives me the utmost warmth,
Just like a star.

Because he's just as beautiful
(If not more), as a star,
To me.