Category Archives: Blog

Destroyed by kindness

Sometimes you have no idea what pain someone’s carrying, or what baggage they’re holding onto, or what demons they’re trying to fight. Sometimes life brings you to a point where you’re standing in front of the person you thought you knew, but in reality, they’re someone completely different. It’s disappointing and confusing because they weren’t honest, and you weren’t supportive. It’s like all your life, you believed in a lie and now that lie is standing naked in front of you, and all you want to do is cover it up because you’re ashamed.

Today I learned something. I learned that sometimes the most beautiful smiles are the ones that rip through moments of doubt. That the shattered souls have the most innocent hearts. The most broken people are the kindest, maybe because they’ve been through hell and they don’t want you to go through it too. Or maybe they’ve given up on life, and they don’t want you to do the same.

I learned that just because you’re kind, ethical and moral, that does not mean the world will reciprocate the same attitude. Sometimes being moral and just will be the reason for your downfall. Being ethical will pull you back. Being kind will destroy you.

Life is only grateful to a few of us. No matter how good and kind you are, the world has its way of dragging you down. It has its way of breaking you and then putting you back together only to knock you down again. To say that you’ve reached the top because you’ve worked hard for it is an understatement. Other factors play a huge role, and life favoring you is one of them. I’ve seen the kindest people break their backs, tear open, and then crack only to drown, and then I’ve seen people curse and laugh only to rise. Why this unfairness? Why does life play hide and seek when it’s wearing a disguise? Why do some people get everything on golden platters while others have to scavenge? Why do some people have happiness dancing on the tips of their fingers, while others are drowning in despair? Why is it that one person’s kindness is overshadowed by another’s cruelty?

Not everyone rises when they fall. Sometimes people drag down the world with them as they plunge. It’s like saying, “if I fall, I’ll take down the world with me.” When life breaks you and tears you open, three possibilities arise.
• You get back up and you try.
• You stay down there and give up.
• Or you pull down everyone else.

Your time will come- I’m tired of hearing this and I’m tired of saying it. You can break all you want, work as hard as you can, spend as many nights awake, but you will get nowhere- not until the doors of your destiny open.

But it is you who has the key. You may be carrying more baggage than your shoulders can bear. Your soul may be joined by twigs as thin as hair strands. Your heart may be bleeding, creating oceans in your chest. You may be the kindest person on the surface of this earth, who’s been broken by the cruelty of this world. You may have blisters on your soles, and your heels may be cracked. Your fingers may be trembling, and your nails might be chipped, but darling in order for the world to see the horizon you see, they’ll be needing your eyes. But that wouldn’t make a difference because the world is blind. Remember a phoenix rises only when it is burned. A diamond is formed only when coal is pressurized. A rose does not grow without thorns. Your time won’t come, you’ll have to drag it to you. Life will break you, but how much you are willing to break depends on you.

Darling, life is tough, but you are tougher.

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Please don’t be Muslim!

Another shooting …

‘Please don’t be Muslim’
the thought echoes in my mind
the man was white
but Muslims in a mosque have died.
For a moment there’s relief
at least people won’t blame hijabs and beards
at least when I walk down the street
I won’t be feared.

But as the thought sinks in
and I go through the news
the shooter wasn’t a terrorist
but an angelic soul who was lost
and didn’t know what to do.
He had a troubled past
and more excuses will be thrown
Muslims are an issue
let’s finish this problem
by using guns and drones.

I hate myself for thanking God
that the shooter wasn’t someone of my kind
but why should it matter who killed
because at the end innocent people have died.

As a Muslim, I’m not only a danger
but now I’m in danger as well
why fear the universe
when the world has become a living hell?

Because of a few
we all have to pay a price
if I could take off my skin and my ethnicity
I promise I wouldn’t think twice.

Maybe if I was a few shades lighter
or maybe if I altered the way I dress
the world would be accepting
and I wouldn’t be oppressed.

At first, I was scared of walking down the street
because I was afraid people would blame me for the bloodshed
now I’m terrified someone would come
and shoot me because of this thing I’m wearing on my head

We’ve closed our borders
our hearts and now our eyes
we’re offended by brand names
by celebrities
but not when someone dies.

Those people in that mosque
in that school
in that church
in that club
in that train
in that state
they all died because of someone else’s hate.

I’m not disappointed
none of us are
we’ve become immune to all this fuss
in a few days
we’ll forget everything that’s happening around us.

We’ll morn for a few days
and we’ll walk and crowd the streets
Then after a few months
we’ll watch this vicious cycle repeat.

But why should it matter if someone is
Hindu,
Sikh,
Christian,
Buddhist,
Muslim
or Jew
why can’t we just exist
without dividing the world
between me and you

‘We need stricter gun laws
regulations
marches
and prayers to solve this issue.
but maybe….
a little Humanity would do the job too.

Crying…

You know that awful feeling where you cry so much that you can’t seem to breathe, like the tiny molecules of oxygen are clogged in your throat, and no matter how hard you inhale you can’t get the air through your lungs. Your chest aches so bad that it feels like your insides are bleeding.

The organ pumping blood through your whole body gains a couple of hundred pounds, and you can’t bear the weight. It’s like everything in your bosom is about to explode, but it doesn’t, and like a ticking bomb you’re waiting for it to erupt. All you want is for everything to end. Your stomach starts to churn like someone is taking a blade and is slicing through your organs, causing internal hemorrhage. Your nose becomes stuffy, your cheeks become blotchy, and your eyes start stinging like someone is pouring acid in them.

The pounding headache is pulsing through your brain like a stick on a drum. Your temples are aching, and your shoulders become rigid. There’s a storm erupting in your mind, causing all sorts of damage that can’t be undone. The anxiety, the depression, the panic attacks all tear into you like needles piercing through a cloth.

You curl into a ball, press your knees against your chest and drown yourself beneath the sheets. The pillows get soaked, drenched in your tears. The world seems to zoom in and out, and everything around you becomes dark. So dark that even with so much light you can’t seem to see anything. Something human in you breaks. Your soul cracks apart, and there’s nothing you can do to rejoin yourself. A part of you that shined like the sun is now as dark as a pit of coal.

You want to feel something, but there is nothing in you except emptiness and that’s the worst feeling anyone can ever have. It’s like you’re plunging into this pit of nothingness. You’re waiting for the impact, but it doesn’t come. You want to crash so badly, to restart all over again, but there’s no beginning and no end because you’re trapped in between.

That feeling of nothingness just swallows you a whole. You want to be mad, angry, depressed. Feel something, but all you feel is a void in your chest growing with every passing second. Like a singularity up in space, you drown everything around you. Time, space, everything that is supposed to be, ceases to exist. You start losing a part of yourself that you know you wont ever recover.

Photo by Murilo Folgosi from Pexels

Publishing my first book…

I published my first book a year ago, on this very day; I wasn’t thinking right. I published it because I didn’t know what else to do with it. It was like one of those scenarios where you just want to get things off your chest. I wanted to get a book off my laptop. My book was rusting beneath files of essays, journals, lab reports, and textbooks.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. How do I get a book published? How do I contact agents? How do I reach publishing agencies? So, I did what any normal person would do. I cried. I cried more than I wrote because it was the easy way out. Because there was something comforting about closed doors, I didn’t have to worry about what was on the other side.

I didn’t write to get myself published. I wrote as a way of relieving stress, as a way to cope with the anxiety bubbling inside of me. It helped until I was starting to fail my classes because I wasn’t paying attention to them. I failed physics and then Organic chemistry and I ended up dropping them both last minute. I would open my textbook, lay it across the table and stare at it until my eyes would hurt. I just couldn’t force myself to read. While taking down notes, in class, I would start scribbling in my notebook, writing poems that no one would ever read.

It was anxiety that stopped me from studying. Imagine having a huge elephant sitting on your chest and you can’t explain it to anyone. Or imagine feeling like the walls of the classroom are shrinking and you’re suffocating. The pounding headaches, the tensing, the stressing and the losing weight. The more I suffered the more I wrote. Most of my pages and notebooks were filled with meaningless incoherent words. I would ignore everyone, skip classes, go to the library, sit on the carpet in between the shelves and I would write. Cry and write. Because I didn’t know why I was feeling this way. Why was an Honor roll, Arista student, who never got below a ninety struggling with passing a class? I loved physics and calculus but solving even the simplest equations seemed so complicated. I wanted to drop out so badly, but I didn’t and that caused more damage. There was one thing I learned though: when you suppress yourself just to fit in, you wreck a beautiful part of yourself and that’s what I did. In my effort to please everyone around me, I forgot who I actually was. I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and in that process, I forgot how many masks I was wearing. I’ve realized that now…

I’m odd. Weird. A freak. But this is just how I am. Abnormal. Clumsy. And I’m okay with that.

I’m peeling off my masks, and I’m redefining everything. I’m losing friends, being hated, but I’m learning to accept this part of myself. I’m okay with it. I think.

But through all that depression, all that anxiety and all those panic attacks, I wrote a 90,000-word page novel with grammatical errors and an ugly cover. I put it on Amazon and it was horrible. I had so many errors and the people who were supposed to have my back never told me. I have such awesome friends.

But the people I didn’t know and never met were more supportive. They gave me feedback and constructive criticism. I took down my book, got it professionally edited, made a new cover and I put it back up again.

In this whole process of burning and reforming, there is so much I learned. The most important lesson was to never give up. Fuck the world- but don’t back down.

But that day, a year ago, I promised myself that I wouldn’t back down, not even if the earth rumbled or the sky broke apart. It didn’t matter if no one read what I wrote. I would write because it makes me happy. Because it’s an escape from this world, into a world that runs on the tips of my fingers.

Link to my book on Amazon: The City of Saints

Finding Happiness

Do you ever have those moments where everything that could go wrong, goes wrong? Where you’re trying so hard to understand what role you had to play in this destruction, but you can’t seem to find any. Where the sky breaks apart, and you’re just standing there wondering why things are happening the way they are. The land beneath your steps shakes like an earthquake, and you plunge straight down in the core of the earth.

Everything you stood up for comes tumbling down. All the things you did in life replay like a movie, and you’re counting every single memory wondering if you ever did anything wrong to deserve this. And you find so many flaws and loopholes in this small life of yours that you accept everything that is happening because you deserve it. Because you’re an inconvenience in a world that is supposed to be perfect. Because you’re a blemish in the face of beauty.

That’s how I feel right now. Like a huge chunk of my chest is missing, and I don’t know where it is. Like there’s a hole in my heart, and all the happiness is leaking through; I can’t seem to keep it in no matter how hard I try.

Like water, contentment is flowing through the gaps in between my fingers and no matter how hard I try to grasp it, I can’t seem to hold it in. All I have are empty palms, and I keep looking at them in hopes that they’ll miraculously be filled. But they never are.

It’s this odd feeling of emptiness that takes away so much energy. Like you’re trying to create happiness from whatever source you can, but it’s time-consuming and it’s hard. It’s like forcing a lump of coal to transform into a diamond. It’s like forcing the sun to come out at night.

It’s hard fighting this emptiness, so you give in to this feeling of despair because the war you’re fighting isn’t worth the damage. But the most ironic thing is that no matter how hard you try to avoid being injured, you end up with wounds so deep that no salve can cure them. The war you’re trying to avoid is forcibly kissing you on the lips.

I guess life has a way of dragging you back to the starting point. Maybe because the road you were taking wasn’t yours to take. Maybe the victory you dreamt of wasn’t in your destiny. Maybe your whole direction was wrong, and life is trying to point you to a path that has your name written on it.

But we’re stubborn. We refuse to see what we can’t comprehend. Sometimes the only thing we can do is have faith. Have hope. Believe. Happiness is like a butterfly. The more you run after it, the more it’ll fly away. Just stay still. Be calm, and happiness will come to you, and it will settle down in between your palms on its own.

Photo by Murilo Folgosi from PexelsCopy