Unmasked

I have been creating perfect days my entire life
They weren’t perfect for me
But what I thought perfect should be

I’ve been creating a life
One I thought I wanted
One I thought I was supposed to have

My perfect day would look like it does on tv
I have lived those days
Those days are not me

So many times I have had the perfect day
Shopping with the girls, brunch at a nice restaurant, tanning by the pool
These things have left me drained, exhausted, confused

So many times I have created the perfect experience
To be let down
To not feel the way they seem

I’ve had my days
In comfy clothes, dim lights, friends each doing their favorite thing
Cooking safe foods together, napping, making sure were hydrated
Watching things we’ve seen a million times; doing things we’ve done a million and one
Laughing and giggling and crying and sitting in silence

I have left those days feeling so at peace
So rejuvenated
So myself

I have also left those days feeling wrong
It is not what being social is meant to look like
It doesn’t match the script that is in my head

I am learning to live life
The one I didn’t know that I wanted
The one that I am supposed to have

I will continue to create perfect days, for the rest of my life.
perfect for me.
I define what perfect should be.

You broke me into pieces you made yourself the victim and told everyone I broke your heart but in reality it was the other way around. You used me to heal yourself for a year you were obsessed with your ex and I let it slide how stupid of me, right I will never think twice to do that again with anyone anymore, you hurt me to make yourself feel bigger and better but in reality you’re just much of a loser. You broke me into pieces you made me cry for days and nights but I still loved you, you lied to me constantly made me overthink about everything for your fun. I thought it was all love but I was blind you manipulated me into thinking you loved me but in reality you loved yourself, you were self obsessed, self harmed you weren’t a good person. You broke me into pieces you made me feel small even though I already had felt that way in life but you made it worse, you never cared about my feelings or thoughts it was always about you I made myself about you and your life but what I should have done was walk away and restore the girl you broke into pieces. I fought for you, supported you even though you didn’t deserve it everyone told me to walk away he will never change but I didn’t believe them I still stayed and thought to myself he will change but I should have listened and walked away. You broke me into pieces it wasn’t love for those past years it was a lesson, a lesson on what a person is really like in the beginning until the end and you sir showed me your true colors and proud to say you aren’t a good person, you used and threw out people like toys you threw me out most of all, you gave me the silent treatment as an act of punishment as if you were the victim and I was the bad person well now I know who was the true victim and it wasn’t me or you it was our relationship throughout the years action, camera, words were all apart of victimize act but me I am survivor from your emotional, verbal abuse. you can change now for the better fake it until you break and you can be with millions of people but I know you will forever feel lonely inside that’s what you are a lonely, miserable person, and you will forever think about what you did wrong and think about the things you couldn’t do right, you broke me into pieces but now I am restoring the girl you broke, the mindset you tarnished for your own game, the fear she has about you coming back and ruining her again, punishing her for your own play she has that fear but not for long because she knows better, she knows her worth bigger and brighter and not you or nor anyone can let her down. You broke me into pieces but you were also a lesson that had to be taught in order for her to restore herself again.

I would say family over everything but that would be untrue. Fights breaking out all the time, Mom threatening to leave everyday, Dad keeping secrets and lies beyond his grasp and a brother who I thought I’d have a good relationship with but, unfortunately never did for the last 12 years. No contact, no support from him in the same house no asking, ”hi sis how you doing?”
Being without love or support from my parents was hard for me. Growing up in a Muslim household in a Muslim community where I had to live up through the expectations of my parents was difficult and because I’m a girl, it was that much harder. For my brother, however, it was the complete opposite. He is expected to be the heir of the household someday after my father, but after years passed, my brother drifted away from my parents little by little. I remember major fights would happen between my father and brother things breaking, physical altercations, my mom holding my brother and my dad back from each other, and I was always in the middle crying.
Their constant fighting stressed me out to the point where I had to worry about panic attacks and seizures. My mom saw my mental state and quickly started to calm me down doing my usual breathing techniques. It worked surprisingly. My brother and dad saw what had happened to me and stopped fighting. Then after sometime, my brother left and decided to stay over his friends place for a while and dad just stood quiet most days (except when arguments were going on of course).
With my mother, that took a different turn and since my brother wasn’t here I had to take on the responsibility for the household. I had to be the son and daughter all in one. I had to be the crazy glue to put everything in place again after another fight broke out with my parents, it was exhausting at times but you get used to the numb feeling of sadness and depression. I always hid behind a wall: the wall of depression. I never expressed it or came face to face with it. I always hid behind it for the last twenty two years of my life. But after a causal conversation with a coworker of mine, he asked me, “I always see you around never smiling, you always have a depressed look are you ok?” I answered, “oh no I’m not depressed I’m just tired because I have to take care of my family all the time.”
After that little encounter, I was on my way home and sitting there thinking about what my coworker said. I started tearing up and after that, I realized maybe my coworker was right. I am depressed and I’ve been depressed for last twenty two years. I needed help. After getting home, my parents had another fight over the same topics: property, money, or even siblings who they never speak to anymore. It was ridiculous, but I knew the more I got in the middle, the more I started to resent them, and live in my own world at home.
I started smoking to ease my anxiety, but that wasn’t much help either, after months and months of fighting my brother who had left told my parents he had gotten an apartment and is leaving permanently I was distraught because I knew if my brother left, I would be the one dealing with everything here by myself more on my plate, after my brother leaving, things had gotten worse than before. My parents and brother would argue non stop, my brother would do selfish things to hurt my parents, but since he’s far away my parents would say the same excuse, “he’s not with us anymore, he’s our son we still love him regardless of what he does.”
That took a turn in my head because if I were to do something small that never pleased my parents, I’d be the bad daughter, the daughter who would apparently bring dishonor to the family even though when my mom would cry herself to sleep because of my brother, I’d wipe her tears and say “everything will be okay, youre a warrior,” but I guess that wasn’t enough, because my parents would always put my brother on pedestal on everything did or said.
After many encounters, I decided that to better myself and my mental health, I have to remove myself from the life my parents expected me to live, and live my own life. I’ve lived up to the expectations of a Muslim girl for so long. The girl who couldn’t even wear clothes that showed the littlest bit of skin…who couldn’t drink or get tattoos or can’t stay past 8:00 p.m. with friends. I had to get straight A’s in school or I’d be a failure in life, I would have to become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer because being a writer wouldn’t get me anywhere they would say, but my brother, being a boy and having “the right genitals in between his legs” could do whatever he wanted when he wanted with whomever he wanted.
I lived up my parents side of their dream for so long I couldn’t get the chance to experience my own desires and dreams until now. The reputation, double standards, the repressed sexuality that runs through the Islam community has many people, especially kids, put down in shame because they want to be on their own person and not the person their parents want them to be. After so many times of trying to be the daughter my parents wanted, I gave up and started to live for myself and not for anybody else. There is a saying I always tell myself when I’m in the predicament of being let down: that is, “I pay my own bills, I make myself look, feel, do better, I wipe my own tears and make myself laugh and at the end I’ll do whatever right for me”, that’s the quote I started to live by after many times, trying to fix my broken home , but that’s impossible with my family. Though, I’m alright with that, because as long as I have myself at the end of the day, and I realize the importance of prioritizing my own journey in life, all the rainy days I had to deal with with eventually lead to the sunlight I’ve always knew I deserved.

The excitement you feel at new years. Is arbitrary. It’s created. We decided that completing 365 days is an accomplishment. A time to celebrate, to reflect, to dream.

We begin to think about all the possibilities of a new year. The places we may go, people we may meet, people we may become.

We create the feeling of being new, fresh, opportunities await.

But what if we celebrated like this every week. Everyday. We feel the same accomplishment and pride and joy for living another day. We feel the excitement and dream about the possibilities that tomorrow holds.

We truly, deep down try to embrace the feelings of new years each and every day. We reflect on the day, what went wrong and released it. What went right and how we can foster more of that. Appreciate the places we went that day while dreaming of the places we’ll go tomorrow.

We create how we feel. How we process. We can’t control the outside influences but we can work to control how we process and react. We can celebrate each and every day and the possibilities that a new day holds.

This year I want to celebrate the new day.

Good morning, happy new day!
Good night, wishing you an amazing tomorrow!

I’m fifteen days into the new year.
I’ve taken no more than twelve steps,
My eyes blink, and in a flash I am here.
My ’empty’ falls, I stand. In God’s light, at my best.
An astral curtain, I’ve just phased through.
Sheer focus aimed ahead; No more playing dead.
Side not with the wicked; rather, the justly shrewd.
Most haven’t seen what hell has to offer. I have, and I’m through.
I’ll march forward. Alone, or with a few.
Nevermind those shadows, we walk in truth.
You’ve got me, and I’ve got you.

P.S. I understand this is quite vague/cryptic. I don’t wanna give too much away on my goals just yet. Still in the process of organizing/compiling 🙂