Hanging by a Thread.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” ― Dr. Seuss

I always thought I was the kind of person that was strong enough to walk away from situations, and not people…I was wrong, because I walked away. I walked away from the problem, from the situation, and all the people in it. Sometimes burning bridges prevents you from going back to a place where you never should have been to begin with…

I swallowed the pain and the hurt, the disappointments and my words. I walked away in complete and utter silence. I didn’t want to stoop to a level that isn’t me. I didn’t want to yell, scream or even cry. Most of all, I didn’t want to explain…I didn’t think I owed it to anyone.

That what does not kill you can only make you stronger.

I’m here, and I’m alive…I’m stronger, most of the time…and other times I find myself gathering the courage to survive another day.

I try to keep myself busy, occupied…because if I don’t, I find myself slipping into a dark place, somewhere within myself and that scares me. So I try to not feel, because it makes me weak and all the excuses I’ve been thinking up and using to convince myself seem like a big lie and I can’t seem to find all that strength I mustered up for so long.

I don’t write to you, and I try not to think about you…because every time that I do, I find myself in a place, where I feel alone and I don’t like that feeling. So I ignore it, because it’s just easier.

I feel like when I walked away, I know…that when I walked away I closed a lot of doors for myself, that I vowed to not open again. I told myself there’s no turning back. There’s a bridge…and we’re at opposite ends, and I’ve burnt my way back. I feel like I’m at the other end just waiting, and it seems like a long wait from now and that saddens me.

I don’t think leaving makes me the weaker person though. I think it makes me the bigger person, because I saved myself from being the person that I was slowly becoming.

I maybe in bad place right now…but I’m going to get through this, and when I do I’ll come out stronger, better and bolder.

Sometimes…you don’t know how strong you really are, until you have no other choice but to be strong. I’m going to see this through to the end, because this is what I chose, for myself.

sometimes people need fixing too…

I think about the finality of death….about ending my live even, at my darkest moments. By darkest I mean when I hit rock bottom and don’t want to get up again…but I’m not a weak person. I’m not afraid of fighting and facing problems and rising when I fall. I don’t let my failures define me or break me. But sometimes I get tired…and that’s only human right? I have the right to break down sometimes and not want to fight and put myself back together. Sometimes I feel like my hearts been torn apart one too many times for me to fix again.

I put pieces together but they fall apart again before I’m able to put them all together…you know? It’s like a piece that breaks into two and before you’re able to put 1 and 2 back together 2 breaks into another two pieces and so on and so forth – until there are just too many pieces and lose ends.

I keep going though; but honestly sometimes I don’t want to anymore.

I contemplate death and its conclusiveness. Sometimes I think it’s the solution to all my problems, like killing several birds with one stone, you know? The key to problems that don’t even have solutions…

I’m not a coward – I’m not afraid to face my problems, but sometimes I get tired. It’s not the problems that make me tired though, it’s the fact that more often than once it’s someone that I love dearly that I’m up against, that seems to be the problem and then I’m not sure anymore.

I don’t end my life out of fear for myself or of the obvious hurt before the transition…I don’t end my life because of the aftermath, the colossal effect that it might have on people around me.

I’m not selfish either…

But sometimes I wish that I was. I wish that I didn’t care about how anyone around me felt. It wouldn’t hurt to just live for myself once.

I don’t want to keep going, because at this point seriously I think I’ve lost every bit of drive and the passion to strive that I ever had. I don’t know who I am anymore, where I’m going, and what I want. I’m not a very happy person…but I smile through my pain and I’m not very ambitious anymore but I try and I don’t feel too great but I lie to your face and you never suspect a thing.

I tried to hurt myself a few days ago…and honestly I don’t know what upsets me more, that in desperation I was driven far enough to try to end my own life or the embarrassing scars that I have to remind me of how far gone I am from the person that I used to be.

I’m not a weak person. I’m just worn out and exhausted.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon.

I went to my eldest uncle’s funeral a few days ago. I don’t know how I felt; I couldn’t comprehend my state of mind at that moment. I knew he had been ill for awhile…but he was supposed to get better – that’s how it’s supposed to work right? When we received the phone call I thought maybe he was in the hospital again…and the entire trip to my grandma’s house I felt like maybe it wasn’t true and my aunt hadn’t understood the phone call properly. It seemed so surreal and sudden.

I felt cold and had chills run down my spine. I didn’t how to react, I didn’t know how I would react upon reaching ‘the house of death’ and seeing him just lying there…lifeless. What would I say? Would I cry? How would I look into the eyes of his wife and kids, his mother and siblings and console them? Would I have the right words, or will I just choke and say nothing? Are there even right words in such circumstances?

The taxi pulled up in front of the house…and as I stepped out I saw worried faces, and broken people. I saw his eldest son standing across the house in tears and strangers that must have known my uncle as well.

I felt cold, and that’s it. I felt nothing.

I walked up the stairs and I saw my uncle’s lifeless body that had been so full of life just the last time that I had seen him. I realized after today I’d never see that face again, and he’ll never speak a word to me ever again, smile at me…he’s really gone.

I did not cry. I saw my grandmother break down and cry her heart out, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that broken before. I saw his wife pass out several times and his five sons pacing around not knowing what to do, crying and cursing fate. I saw his siblings break.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have the words…I realized there are no right words to take away the pain, there are no amount of words that could fix that, or make them feel better. So I watched them break down, cry and embrace the hurt.

I didn’t cry. At one point I thought maybe I should, that I was supposed to. I tried…but all I felt was numb. I tried to remember him when he was still alive, and full of life. I tried to remember memories, and provoke myself to feel something – but I felt nothing.

I felt as detached to feelings as my uncle was to life.

I stared at his body for a very long time…because it’d be the last time I ever saw him again. I had no words of comfort to offer anyone. I excused myself and later that night I went home and carried on with my life like nothing had happened.

I have never felt so inhumane and sadistic in my life. How could I be so heartless.

I’m upset that he’s gone…I am, I know everyone there that day might not believe so but I believe you don’t have to express your sorrow for you to feel it. It doesn’t have to show for it to be there.

He was in a lot of pain before he passed away and I only pr ay that now he’s in a better place and may Allah grant him a place in paradise.

Ameen.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon – to Allah we belong, and to Allah we shall return.

backspace.

I haven’t written in a long time…sorry, I should say I haven’t posted in a long time because saying I haven’t written would be incorrect. I have written, and deleted and written again and have backspaced my thoughts time and time again.

I haven’t been feeling my best and I don’t want to write about it, and post it…because I can’t sit down long enough for me to adequately put into words how I feel. I’m afraid…I’m afraid that if I do that, it’ll become real.

I’m afraid that if I sit down and write about it, I’ll dwell too deep into something I’d rather not ponder over. I’m afraid I might create a pool of misery for myself and then drown in it.

I’ve been contemplating life and death a lot these days.

I’m afraid of where my thoughts might take me. So I write, and I write…and then I delete and get rid of it all, because posting has a sense of permanence to it. It solidifies your thoughts, and gives way to opinions and third party judgement.

And I don’t want that. I have stories to tell…but I don’t want to tell them, because who really cares enough to listen and not pass judgement, and think not naive of you or over dramatic even? I don’t need that. I don’t need someone to tell me it’s not like I think it is and that I’m not acting appropriately.

I will be my own judge.

I don’t need you to tell me my feelings are wrong. Nope.

So I write, and I delete.

I’d rather just deny it all and try to forget.

Its true you know, what they say…ignorance is in fact bliss.

all you need is one.

Sometimes when all odds are against you, and no one wants to take your side…all you need is one person to stand by you when the entire world seems like it’s against you. All you need is just one person to boost your confidence, restore your hope when it begins to falter, and just assure you that everything will work out in the nick of time. Someone that will push you to keep on going when you want to give up, smile and offer a few words of advice and believe in your dreams.

Is that too much to ask for?

Is it too much to ask for someone to believe in your dreams, to genuinely want for you what you want for yourself rather than want their own perception of what they think is best for you? Is it too much to ask of someone to share your aspirations, goals and desires?

Sometimes I get tired…and I wish that there was someone that would be there to tell me it’s okay to feel like that, allow me to rest, take it easy but keep in mind my journey and destination and urge me to try again.

Sometimes all you need is the feeling of knowing that there’s someone that has your back, that will catch you when you fall.

That will give you strength when you begin to weaken…

Sometimes all you need is one person.