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

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.

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