Do not come expecting insightfulness, strength or beauty; this is about ugliness, shallowness and insecure horrid thoughts. It’s about heresy.

Been trying to fast and started late. If tomorrow is Shawwal–I got only 6 days in. Today I felt so faint must be from my lack of sleep. I slept only 1 hour yesterday and then some friends came over to watch a “movie”. My place felt homey and I was happy at the fact that I listened to my intuitiveness and cleaned up my room.

If anything I am grateful for my intuitiveness. I has saved me may times. Or it’s Allah? Or would that be too assuming?

Anyways this movie turned out to be “Sex and the City”–WHAT A LOAD OF SHIT

what poision.

what shit.

a load of shit.

my IQ fell by 10 points. and for 10 minutes being in contact with a man–even sending a message–even “poking” on facebook– repulsed me.

How desperate, how misguided… my pity mixed with repulsion… this supposedly “glamorous” lifestyle–rang so empty; useless things were bought to just fill up space and the way sex and relationships were treated, protrade *shudder* it was a true invaluement to the human soul and thins kept near; not really needing to be said.

If there was I could truly sympathize and understand was the main character’s love for a man who gave mixed signals… there seemed so much to be left untouched… there seemed so much she wanted to say to him…

I use to view the situation with extreme anguish: leaving things left unsaid.

However, (relating to my situation), I never left any doubt for my dil that I absolutely adored him. And still he hasn’t even AIMed me even though him and I are always on on the same time–that’s not a mixed signal. But in the past when I had talked to him there were many, many, many signals but he never started a conversation with me.

Oye I am obessessing, “it’s just a ride”.

I feel empty inside.

Blah, the girl whom he is in love with, talked to me yesterday. Empty. Simply empty. I feel nothing bad nor good towards her perhaps a little admiration for her–because of her strong deen and the way my dil idolizes her. My mother asked to see her sometime ago so I sent her pictures.

“I see a strong woman with purpose in her mind. She knows what she wants.” This was very true. “If (his name) loves her, it must be for her strength–something he desires and wants for himself.” This echoed my thoughts exactly when I inquired and he admitted that he loved her. “If he’s weak, (my name) Allah wouldn’t give you that. He would give you someone strong… to protect you… to love you… not to relie on you for strength.”

That truth eased my heart. But then again I am not sure if I want a strong man–becasue then he would try to control me..? ugh, I don’t know.

Today I felt as if I was going to faint. I woke up late for fajr. Slept through most of the day. But I am pretty such I did all my prayers, even though they were late.

This is a bad habit on my part. I postpone my prayers.

aiming, aiming, aiming–pretending for a little while, until I couldn’t breathe

me (10:58:31 PM):I feel really really bad

Randomwiseperson (10:59:13 PM):talk to me…

me (10:59:38 PM):no, I’ll confined to Allah me (10:59:45 PM):just distract me will you?

me (1:03:58 AM): http://www.ijtihad.org/Hijab.htm

Randomwiseperson (1:07:30 AM):But for some inexplicable reason, the ascendant Islam today is highly legalistic and Shariah-obsessed. Islam in the mind of many Muslims is nothing but Shariah - what it really means in operational terms is that the beauty, the virtues and the meaning of Islam is confined to the rather mundane domain of medieval Islamic legalist discourse - Fiqh - which lacks the intellectual depth of Falsafa (Islamic philosophy), the aesthetics and the mystery of Kalam (Islamic theology) and the spirituality and charisma of Tasawwuf (Islamic mysticism).

Randomwiseperson (1:07:32 AM):i agree

me (1:07:57 AM): I agree wholeheartly

Randomwiseperson (1:08:37 AM):i also like his point about the epistemiologic hijab, separating women fromthe sources

in the past women were much more involved in learning and teaching, but over the last 3-400 years, thats been in decline

me (1:09:12 AM): yeah no female scholars

Randomwiseperson (1:09:42 AM):well no female scholars currently (or very few), but in the past plenty

hmm he did make one mistake tho: Even historically, men and men alone have developed all the Madhahib - legal schools, and legal principles, even those that deal with the most private aspects of female existence

Randomwiseperson (1:12:35 AM):good article

me (1:13:17 AM): i thought so too

me (1:13:26 AM): it looks like I need to go

IF I COULD EAT BOOKS! (the pile of philosophy books glowed in my hand as I walked back from the library to my dorm–I CAN’T WAIT TO EAT THEM!)

I would do it in a bloody frocking second. BLOODY- (Laughs) what a funny word.

oye I am such a heretic, it’s horrid. I fasted today and I still write words like “frocking” damn it. (digging myself a hollllllle).

Not last night, but the night before I wept.

Wept.

Like I haven’t in a long time.

There I was, reading the Qur’an.

In this personal capsule, where there is only your voice to be heard. I realized there was this gap in my heart.

“My deen is kindness;
my mosque is nature;
my God is a love deep inside”

Rings so true. But this love deep inside which use to be so great, so vast (or at least I look but and think it was) seemed so empty. I should be feeling Allah within me. Instead there was a vast expanse of wasteland… I looked inside and saw this ill-fitting and ill-equipped landfill, with things and people jetting out because they weren’t really suppose to be there. Allah (swt) was. This love I had for this man… was I trying to fill the gap of closeness and love with Allah with him?

At first my love seemed so pure, so kind–I was so thankful for even the pain because with it, it made me strong, fervent, intense, potent, fierce in a most gentle way and the best thing… it made me love Allah so much more; I felt passionate with thankfulness. Gratitude was ingrained in my skin.

However, the more I let him know… I look back and I think he recoiled–it happened so fast. (Heavy lump in my throat).

He grew less responsive and I more frustrated until it wore me down, and made me feel ghastly. Thus when I recognized this dependence on him I couldn’t be more appalled at myself. What a hideous and needful creature I had become. How dreadful that my happiness had relied upon someone other then myself and Allah (swt).

So I have stopped talking to him, knowing he had a great time with me, seeing if he really does love me. Care I know he does, but love… it teaches humbleness and patience–if he still retains his arrogance and pride in that he can’t even inaugurate a conversation with me then he does not, in fact, love me.

So it’s felt like a long time since the last time we talked–perhaps 3-4 days? Indescribably long considering before missing each others company for even a day was an abnormality.

I can’t love someone who doesn’t return my love… I am the type to move on… or at least I think I am.

But just by not talking to him for a couple of days I feel the dependency upon him lifted–I know I can live without him but I am still in love with him. I feel happy… that this dependency has lifted from his burdened shoulders. Nevertheless, he doesn’t know that.

And I simply wait.

I wait for him.

But perhaps if and when he comes around I won’t be there. I know there will be others, my brain is not so naive although my heart contends with it often. However, my brain knows myself.

It is an oddity. People have asked me where I have traveled. With a playful laughter I respond, “In my heart and in my brain; but not so much the latter.”

These idiosyncrasy I have become; anomalously searching his name, looking for just an image, an entry, a video–of him. And as long as I can do it in the privacy of my heart and computer; trying to appease my curiosity, love and caring for him… I have become fine with it.

And the realization comes upon me with a tinge of truth… much like a revelation came upon me as I wept with my eyes, nose and heart all over my Qur’an: that perhaps I will never have that feeling of Allah in my heart but I’ll live with a memory of it… the same way the recipient of my love does not return it–in spite of his flowerily and honest words (for maybe he doesn’t realize it) his actions speak volumes.

He doesn’t love me.

Umm… I deleted this blog and then put it back up. It’s ugliness hurts but life is nothing without it, and without it, we know no true beauty.

Ever feel immense joy at being clever and sarcastic in a sly funny almost kind way that makes it absolutely hilarious? Oh, how the sun rose and warmed my chest with happiness!

I danced today

and my hair flew every which way

happiness grew

as beauty ensued

my eyes green and bright–

thank you mirror

I am an awesome wild sight!

Flying higher and higher!

Nowhere near tis’ tier

Joy sprang a rose

And no door seem to close

I have been feeling very poetic:

Laughter so loud
Tears so sweet
We’ll look back on the days we were so proud
On our feet
Near to anguish we were
Ecstasy simply pure
Oh those mighty days when we caused such a stir!
Everything was importanr and taken with zeal
Still strong we were not needing that meal
Naive we were–taking to love so fast!
Gone are the days
So now we just laugh!

I’ll probably just laugh about my love, anguish how I feel when I grow older–so my native inspired me.

I should get to that paper-damn it. (Laughs)

Yesterday, I told my mother. As I was walking to class, I started to cry, I felt so foolish–stupid. She took it so well, it shocked me. Trying to console me she said, “It’s normal.” LOOOLLz—when I told her she even said she already knew! But how? I asked

“The way you would talk about him—even before you left for school.”

“Huh? I found out during Ramadan.”

“No I knew, maybe you didn’t.” That made me think, perhaps it was so easy to talk about him because at the time he seemed so sexless to me.

Well, today my morning started with self-loathing. I wanted to really die as I remembered how honest I was about my insecurities to him. How he avoided me on aim “invisible”, how in the last big convo he simply signed off without a “salaam”. How repulsed he must be of me; probably more then myself.

As I cleaned dishes I turned my ipod on loud with the Arabic-English Qur’an, doing dikhir so hard because my heart was in complete agony and torture and kept aching as I remembered my foolishness.

AH! The anguish, threatens to overwhelm me.

After work I switched the tune on my ipod, an exquisite Indian melody with hope, anger, pain and an all encompassing beauty; like the way marijuana is wrapped tightly. I felt this coil within my arms and legs—no throbbing in my very body.

I danced without abandon. And a sun rose within me; warming my limbs—everything—including my heart. Joy sprang from me.

Then a cold flash of fear shot through me as a realization sparked: I wasn’t alone. Jerkily, I stopped. Following that innate sense I turned and found brooding, intense green eyes. He was so gorgeous it shook me and then scared me—I only managed one defiant proud, angry glance and looked away. Keenly aware of the scarf half off my hair and my bare arms. I walked away and up to my dorm.

I shiver. But perhaps it’s the cold.

SHITSHITSHITSHIT.

shutupshutupshutup.

I never curse.

RUCK. DUCK. DAMN F***ing no LUCK.

I was outside walking to a dining hall. Remembering him. Remembering the man I love so much. Told him–been telling him my fears, insecurities and ugliness. I am so fucking honest with him. And he’s so in love with another. Unabashedly in love with her. He told me.

And yet I dig myself in a hole, tell him how insecure in love I am with him. How I wish I was the girl. I am not the brilliant, beautiful and strong girl he has seen in person.

I am sobbing.

Insh’Allah this will be good for me.

So I was walking to the dining hall right now. This deep regret, this horrid dread–fills me up. I really wish I could die. Actually, a friend was with me; I made a vocal moan which she ignored. Then I pointed to a thorny bush.

“I wish I could eat it. Just chop on it. Bite it.”

She glanced at me, vaguely. Clearly in her own world. Then I looked at her arm. “I wish I could bite off your arm. Just tear it off. Blood everywhere.”

At this she looked at me. “Public safety is right there,” she said an pointed, before we both busted out laughing–and I in spite of the pain and pure anguish in my chest.

WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH ME? *crying*

I really wish his love did love him back. Instead he waits in pain, wondering if his love is validated; if he “wasted” his feelings, invested so much–wallah I don’t know. But it would be so much easier to let go. There would be no hope for me and I could cut off this cord from my heart from this uncertain womb.

I wish I could fade in numbness. And instead I have tears running down my face. I really, really, really do hate myself. Especially, if this dependent creature–monster–savage rodent I am becoming. I am so repulsed. In him I confide everything.

For three days I thought I was free. I was so happy. I was so confused; I wasn’t sure I loved him. I told my mom a girl came into my room and said she wasn’t sure if she love this man. My mom then replied, “Then she doesn’t love him. She’s just holding on because she did the dirty deed.”

I felt free, happy, strong–and then empty. Like this horrible dread–this loneliness. There will be others that understand me as much as he does. He is not the only man on earth.

This I told myself. Felt empowered for a little.

Then I saw him this past weekend.

I am in love with him.

Men may caught my eye but he has my heart–my very soul.

Every time I saw him I had this urge to caress him. LIKE WHAT THE FUCKING HELL–*crying* all my life I have been scared to touch a man.

I must try and see him as a friend. I mustn’t confine everything to him. UGH UGH UGH UGHHHHHHHH

Ya ALLAH–I am a pitiful pitiful pitiful–UGLY–retarded–immature–childish–HORRID–heretic–BAD–CONDEMNED SOUL

I know. No one fucking knows me. I know myself. I am a heretic who happens to be Muslim. I am a partial soul, needy, greedy. It would be better if I died. Just relief, insh’Allah so I wouldn’t have to go through this condemned catharsis.