[weakenedbones]

ever since I quit writing in an actual journal, this feels like my only safe space.

When i am not aware of the followers, of the people who may or may not read my posts, then i have the space and freedom to be genuine. When i am not self-conscious about how i portray myself, or what information i may leak out about my life, then I'm able to type with ease and authenticity. to let out what is truly on my mind and heart.

[weakenedbones]

why do I always feel like I have returned to my true self when the night is dark and the world grown quiet. when no one is around, not a single sound. no need to perform, or put on a smile. is this really who I am, or am I just tired. is this the only way for me to be me, or have I become exhausted and reluctant of the effort required when I'm with other people. the same effort that will allow me to grow and learn and change.

[weakenedbones]

when i sit to collect my thoughts, and to spill them out on here, i often find myself pausing and reflecting. i find that time has slowed down and i am full of emotion. i hear the crickets and their nighttime melody. every fiber of my body is weighed down with all that i am feeling, so i sit to release it all through these written words. i type and read over them slowly, wondering if anyone who reads it will also do the same; if they will sense what I am feeling. but they don't, and i know this. because i've seen how you are when i show you something that i've put my heart in to. you skim through my heavy words and barely feel the emotions behind them. on a good day you might nod, but otherwise, there is no response. and i am reminded yet again, how i must do things for me. how people won't always appreciate or understand it, but i have to always do them for myself. i can't shed these tender parts of me, just because you aren't able to open your eyes and see them. i can’t keep waiting for you to see them, or seeking validation in your approval. because these parts don’t exist to please you. they exist because they’re a part of who i am.

[weakenedbones]

there is an emptiness that fills up the space inside of me that was once carrying life. a space that was meant to be carrying life, but it never happened. a hollow sort of feeling, both physically and mentally. I often find myself staring in to the dinstance, wondering what it would've been like. It's a strange feeling; to be given something that you didn't really want, and then for it to be taken away when you had begun to accept it.

[weakenedbones]

2014

she said she never knew

that she could be hit by it too

said it was always happening to others, not her

but I guess all she needed was a trigger

and since then the problem’s only gotten bigger

so now she’s the one running,

with no where to flee

and sadly no one can see

all of the agony

she goes through trying to contain

all those heavy feelings of pain

she’s got no place to hide

and trust me, she’s tried

been wearing so many masks

so people wouldn’t ask

and though you won’t see her frown

I know inside the heaviness is weighing her down

it’s too much for her heart

clouded thoughts she can’t pull apart

blurring her vision

so she can’t even see

her own reflection clearly

she told me, some days I feel okay

and I try hard to keep it all at bay

feels like nothing is really wrong

but deep inside, I know I’m not that strong

can’t even count the nights I’ve cried

red-rimmed and teary eyed

but I know where my problems reside

and all I can do is pray

Lord help me, and show me the way

help me out of this mess

it’s all my fault, I confess

I have no hope of getting through

except by the mercy and help of You (God)

what could I say, but tell her to be patient

and that soon you will be given a better replacement

I remind her that she’s stronger than this

please hold on a littler longer

and don’t fall in to the abyss

of your mind, and all those dark thoughts

try hard to dismiss them

because in the hereafter awaits

an everlasting bliss

and please don’t hide yourself in shame

because you aren’t the one to blame

and one day you will see

that everything happened the way it was meant to be

and she tells me she understands

but then she looks down at her hands

then meets my gaze with her tired eyes

and says a part of me always dies

each time it happens,

but I hate to admit that without it

I wouldn’t be me

and I wouldn’t have much of a personality

you see, on most days she has shackles holding her down

but when she’s broken free of them

she still feels like she’ll drown

and what pains me the most

is that she can’t see

that her true identity

is not defined by her lack of serenity

but it’s only a deception that’s been created mentally

so I look towards her with affection

and tell her I know she’s looking for a

sense of direction

but she should know that she is strong

and should never abandon making supplication

to the One who perfected her creation

because He will put her heart at ease

and grant her a peace of mind

relieved from this disease

until then do what you can

to keep yourself from going numb

but always remember God has a plan

and one day your time will come.

[ummsuhaylah]

06/01 : thoughts before bed. //

I lay here remembering the old me, wondering what’s happened to her. I know the answer, but I can’t help but still ask myself the same questions. The softness, the tenderness, and compassion — where has it all gone? Since when did they become so hard? Since when were they transformed in to something so rigid and empty? I remember feeling so feather-like, not letting those around me ever feel the weight of which I carried. But now it’s like I’m wearing a backpack full of rocks and can’t hide it. Most days I feel anger and pain fueling every action and thought, until I catch myself. Everything has become a reminder of things I want to forget, or a challenge, or a reason for criticism and discomfort. And if not that, then it surely turns in to sadness, and pain, and longing. A longing for what once was — or what I thought it was. For all the things I was hoping it was and hoping it could be. Most days there is hardly any peace. I was hurt... I still am hurt. And that feeling is beginning to open dangerous doors that I want to keep shut. I’m noticing my thoughts and feelings and they’ve reached another level and I need to find an exit door because this isn’t good for me. It’s like smelling the smoke and I know I need to find the fire escape before the fire consumes me. The bitterness is spreading everywhere and I need to put a stop to it somehow. I need to get rid of it, otherwise I cannot thrive.

I want my old self back. I want to be lighter again. The way I was at twenty-one, when I thought things were different. The genuine and innocent hope that I had, and the dreams that I carried inside of me. I don’t want to feel so broken anymore. I don’t want to feel like five years have gone to waste, because they haven’t. Allaah knows every little thing, every detail, and every thought. It is never gone to waste. And I was given some beautiful blessings during those years which I haven’t forgotten about, and they’ve been my anchors throughout all of this.

But I need to change. I need to change for those around me, but more importantly for myself. I need to learn forgiveness for the sake of Allaah, and learn to regain strength for myself. I don’t want to live like this anymore. This world isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth holding on to all of this, carrying weight on my shoulders that not only cause pain, but also slow me down from doing anything else. So for however long I’m here, I owe it to myself to try. I need to be a better version of me for myself, and for my kids. I need to try.

[aseaofquotes]

Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

[weakenedbones]

the warmth of their bodies was the only thing between them. her arms wrapped around him as he faced the other way. then he turned, buried his head in the crevice of her neck; and like a baby he softened, and the tears began to flow. her arms barely wide enough to cradle his broad shoulders. she wiped his tears and continued to embrace him, running her fingers through his hair, while praying in her heart, with tears in her own eyes, that he did not feel embarrassed and only comforted. that he felt relief with her, and that He was witness to it. praying that this was a turning point, an indication of some kind that things would be better. “I love you,” she whispered. he continued to sob; then paused and asked, “how?” but she didn’t know how, she just knew that she did. in that moment, compassion melted the anger and she saw, maybe for the first time, how wounded he truly was.

[aseaofquotes]

Ray Bradbury, “The Fog Horn”

[aseaofquotes]

Sarah Ockler, Fixing Delilah

Submitted by Anonymous.

[aseaofquotes]

Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass

[weakenedbones]

I’ve realized that I’m not very good at letting things go. When I clear off the shelves of my heart and make room for new things, I don’t just throw the old ones out, I shove them under the rug and let the dust pile up. I’ve got baskets in my closet to prove this. Tiny objects and sentimental pieces of paper, all so meaningless, yet heavy with memories for me. I haven’t been able to throw them out. The ‘Eid card from a childhood friend that I no longer speak to, the small broken clock I bought during my very first trip to the mall with one of my first middle school friends, a nearly empty bottle of perfume given by that same friend that I’ve kept only because it reminds me of being eleven years old and of what our friendship used to look like, or the random little objects I used to keep in my old bedroom. I still have the postcard sent to me by an author I used to obsess over as a child, and I was so excited that she wrote back to me. I keep these things not because I look at them daily or because anyone else will ever understand them. But because they mean something important to me - they bring back parts of my life that I may have otherwise forgotten about. They bring back to existence the old me that I sometimes dearly miss. The energy and curiosity that ran through me. The younger me that wasn’t battling demons in her mind, and knew how to think clearly and confidently take on the days. It reminds me of a softer time in life, when the innocence still existed and life seemed simple. When I spoke my mind and didn’t think of the consequences, and didn’t care either because I knew who I was and I could stand up for her.

[weakenedbones]

“I love you,” she whispered. He continued to sob with his face buried in her neck, “How?” Which was something she did not have an answer for.

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

Trauma shatters your most basic assumptions about yourself and your world - “Life is good,” “I’m safe,” “People are kind,” “I can trust others,” “The future is likely to be good” - and replaces them with feelings like “The world is dangerous,” “I can’t win,”“I can’t trust other people …”

Mark Goulston (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. And yet I cannot let it go. I cannot let it go.

Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Ruth Tiffanny Beuscher written c. July 1962 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[weakenedbones]

how is it possible to have gone most of your life living in a certain way, only to have a few years change that, to the point where you can barely remember what it ever felt like to be that way.

[weakenedbones]

I don't remember how old I was but I remember wanting him to come in the car. I wanted to let him hear this nasheed I loved listening to. He didn't come though, I forgot the reason. It was getting dark out and the barbecue at the park was filled with people I didn't know. I'm not even sure why she took me. Despite being a little extroverted, I was never too social at those types of things as a kid. I was shy when it came to new people, and I sometimes still am. It was getting dark out and we were headed back home. I think she's the one who gave me that nasheed tape. I didn't like everything on it, so I'd switch it from side A to side B when I wanted to hear the one I liked. "Nobody knows, when they'll die. And if they will live to see another day. I must be wise, in the choices that I make, remembering Allaah, when the angel comes my way." I remember most of that thing. & recently I've been thinking about how my entire life, almost my entire life, death has always been something I feared. Death has always been something I knew about, was aware of, and feared. A constant reminder about something I couldn’t seem to forget about unlike most of my friends. A blessing in disguise, I suppose. "It's the unknown future, and Allaah only knows, when we will return to Him, when will we go." I would never listen to those people or those nasheeds again, but sometimes I wonder if through those lyrics, I was taught a message that remained with me for years to come.