I dazed off to sleep the night before hoping for a dream. Hoping to delve in a time where no laws bound my soul, hoping to steer through the future just to glimpse if I will be held, if I will survive in the end.
I woke up happy with a smile masking my face, forming wrinkles that will one day form a tale: a story of a struggle, a story of patience…a story of the past. My morning was spent gazing through a window, driving on a highway, following the line of trees that seemed to formulate a hollow green light from far away. I reached where I intended, and walked the path to the fountains to sit on the bench.
My morning meditation got rained on! The droplets hitting the surface of the water created a ripple effect that seemed to replicate our lives. We are the droplets and life is the pool of water. Every decision and action that we make can affect the whole pool and each droplet waiting to be simulated within by the ripple effect.
The train of thought got interrupted by a phone call. “Where are you? I have been waiting for you for over an hour….do you just forget me like that?” I was stunned, I got delved in into my own thoughts that the appointment with a dear friend was forgotten. So I tell her to meet me at the bench…
From far away I can see her frown drowning her face, from far away I sense her disappointment, and from far away I can feel her anxiety and fears. The closer she gets, I prepare my smile and heart, soften my arms, and warm up the bench. The closer she gets, the more prepare I am, for I know all she needs are a pair of hands to store all her tears, a shoulder to lean on, and a heart to trust….
She sits, so cold are her hands. Turns to me with sullen eyes, and utters “he did it again!”, then quickly covers her lips with her fingers to not speak no more. The heat of my body turns to cold…frozen and shivering in disbelief. All the words left my mind, my arms closed in, my heart sealed, my smile frowned, and the bench turned to thorns pricking our bodies. All this while her tears blended to the rain drops over her face, “he did it AGAIN…..I WANT TO DISAPEARRRR!”
She then looks at me with her sullen eyes once more and said:
“I am not really an outspoken person;
I like to blend in the background.
I’m sorry that I get up tight;
my conscious self won’t let me fight.
I feel the eyes burning within me,
so I feel I can’t draw the tears out.
I can’t go on anymore, I can’t live through his sight.
I want to die, I’d rather live in the abyss of hell for one night….”
I hold her so tight and refuse to listen to another word she utters. I scream out loud
“I love you for who you are,
therefore do not let your heart scar.
I know you don’t deserve this,
its not your fault its his.
You’d rather crumble into pieces before you wish for a destiny in hell,
for hold on to yourself before you’ll hear the end’s bell.
Just be,
then you’ll be free!”
How can words describe the inner struggle of another, words merely convey the interpretation of the indescribable feelings. If she wrote, she would say:
~~~~~
He once loved, but love turned to something vicious, something that repels one’s heart to never love. He, my father, drowned in his subconscious and started to see evil within his beloveds, especially in me. I was a catalyst to his frustrations; it was all drained on me.
He had his happy moments, but soon they were victimized by his uncontrollable anger, the witnesses to it all were his hands. His early Karate training gave him the expertise of how to hit a limb and never leave a bruise. Thus, never did his hands leave a scar, only the one’s left wide open within my heart.
The corner of my bed became my shelter, and the reasons for it all became me. I was the reason for it all. I came to this world with a defected soul, and the sight of me gave him the incentive to do it all. I became the grave to his amusement; this is the subconscious’s understanding to reason it all.
When a smile composes on my face, this was the very trigger to demolish his inner corked feelings upon my heart. I started to relate love and hate, they started to coexist within my heart: that was the beginning of the end.
Slowly I started to drain into music, relieved my frustrations by other means. Means that would slowly lead me to corruption, means that would lead me to the end. Isn’t that what I wanted, for it all to end?
I started to waste away, wishing I was invisible. I started to melt away, wanting to be someone else. I started to fade away; even my eyes became oblivious to it all. They never shed a tear, and the heart hardened. I lost the taste of life, and the life lost me within its lost cause.
I began to skip classes, and hide in the bathroom within the four walls of the stall, looking over a window that shined so bright, the only opening I let in. Nothing seemed to delve in to my inner depression and wipe it all away. No one could understand...
I come home to house full of miserable talk, noise of destruction. From opening the entrance door to closing my bedroom door, a trail of silence. Ear phones plugged the outer noise, listening to noise that understands me, the words of the depressed. I started to write and draw, releasing what’s eating my flesh away. It has been 35 days since a particle of food entered my body; it took 15 cuts to release the excessive blood from clogging my mind. On and on I counted the days where it all will end, 65 days to go and I will be all fine.
Numbers became my addiction, so did water, planners, notebooks, and anything sharp. I counted everything, everything became a count-DOWN. When I got too drowsy, I fed myself a whole carton of Ice cream, a dozen cookies, 3 cups of juice, and a laxative pill. I would turn on the water knob to drain the noise, the noise of my inner musing will sing, creating a punch line against the water.
Where was everyone? I did not let anyone in. My mother became a foreign object floating her words of destruction around my mind, my sister and 2 brothers were delved in to the amusements of life, My father continued his dominion over my temple, hosting the show to my destruction, but last was my lord.
Who was my lord? The Allah that I never knew, a word that my father used to entertain his beatings. I despised that word greatly, for it was the cause of it all, or so I thought.
When the very religion announced it self as the very cause to my pain, I despised it very mcuh. However, the more I get to know the religion and Allah, I found it that its the LACK of religion that people do such things, hurt the people they love.
It took a day of doom to relieve me from the destructed hands of my father, to the Oft-merciful! One night, after experiencing an hour worth of punches to my body because of merely disappearing into the corner, I was left hanging by a thread in my little closet, curved and crumbled. I felt nothing, my body was numb. I just stayed in that graceless position, frozen for an hour. Stairing at the meadow of my dream, and seeing it all fade away. No tear has formed, no future could be seen. Just there, lying against sharp metal sticking against the closet door into my back, which was felt after the sensation of life has come back.
I could not foresee anything, all I could see was my body laying there dead. I wanted everyone to feel my pain, I imagined my father holding himself tight finally realizing what his hands have let. I wanted each soul to ear my screams, and so I wrote...
I wrote a 12 page letter, back and front, to my father and his lovely family. There was a tear stain separating each and every letter. Something to treasure forever, hanged on a frame in front of his bed. I wrote away my past, I wrote away my current state, and I wrote away my future. I wrote a proposition to an end of it all. I wrote away words of forgiveness, I wrote away my last words to be said: Good Bye!
I waited until every soul slept away, and headed into the kitchen drawer where the sharpest of knives are neatly stored. I picked the sharpest one of them all. I landed on my bedroom floor, 5 aspirins to calm the heart away, and a knife handled by two shaky hands. I was ready…
Thesharp tip was held against my stomach, but I felt nothing. 5 min has passed me by, and I still felt nothing. My past flashed in front of my eyes, all the happy moment: The times when I held my father's index finger, standing on his feet, guiding me through the world. The times where I was held up high and twirled like a dervish. The times where I ran so fast to greet my beloved, excited to see him. The times when he would wipe my tears away, and let me sleep on his arms. Those times all faded away by a mere slap to the face, a punch to the head, a drag on the floor, and a kick on the stomach. All those memories got replaced by my current state, crumbled being whose love got sipped by all the hate of the world. As the knife delved in deeper into my skin, I saw my future:
My body on the floor drowning on a pool of blood. My father coming in my room seeing me laying there, an attack wraps its wrath on his heart. My mother pulling her hair as my sister crying on her shoulder. My two brothers beating each other up blaming each other. All the distruction of the world befell the 4 walls that closed in on my body, as I’m laying there peacefully on the bedroom floor. Then, the real destruction was heard….
…I fell into a warm void. The warmness turned to hot, the hot became burning…I reached the abyss of Hell! “Forever” I was ordered, FOREVER IN HELL…
I let go of the knife. It already pierced through my clothes and the first layer of my skin. But I Let go so quickly at the sight of hell. Nothing stopped me, not my family's destruction, but…the sight of HELL!
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? YA ALLAH, PLEASE SAVE ME”
I woke up the very next day with a knife next to me, the nightmare of the one night stand. The moment I opened my eyes, I knew. I knew that I had a purpose in my life. I knew that I was saved. I knew that I was put on this earth for reasons I knew not, but it was time that I discovered it all.
I blocked out everyone and everything but the One up above. He was my reason of living, he was my reason for everything. I lived for the end, I lived to love. I refused to believe that what had happen was in the name of the Lord, but what has happened was the lack thereof. I became to know the truth, and I became a stranger within my home.
I forgave. Every hit after that day was a sin wiped off, every beat to the stomach was happy moment in the future, every broken heart beat was a love waiting to be discovered…everything I lived for was for the future. I knew what I wanted, I wanted it all to be over, but patience was needed to make it all turn over.
Patience was instilled in me with the word of God. That is the only entity that inhibited me to survive. I became full of optimism, although the outer destruction never ended, but I found a mightier reason for it all.
I knew that someone will come, by my lord’s way, and wipe off the past and hold my hand. Someone will come and show me the real love, the real life to live, and replenish all the lost smiles that were spent on the lost cause. Someone will come…. But until then, I have my lord.
All I had to do is Let go, and be.
~~~~~~
And here she is once more. After delving in a high moment, she rebounded to a lower state at the sight of a trial, as such. This is her lowest point of life once more. Her father just gave her a morning kiss to the face, minus the love; plus the scar. She can no longer take it anymore, and her faith is depleting.
I know she is strong, I know that she will find her answers in the one above. I just need to be there for her at these moments just to remind her, that “Allah has everything planned, always be patient….Just Let go when things afflict you as such, and be who you are.”
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