I am postponing my prayer and writing this…
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.â€
“Huh? I found out during Ramadan.â€
“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 “invisibleâ€, how in the last big convo he simply signed off without a “salaamâ€. 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.