Excerpts from my 'Dear Diary' series

'New year, New me'

It is now 02:13am on the 1^st January 2017.

I have so many things to make happen this year. But I am lazy. I am too lazy to do the things that matter the most. When I was younger I wanted to be everything my brain could think of. I wanted to be a mermaid, a doctor, a firefighter, a singer, a model and so forth. What I really want right now is a free pass. A pass that would allow me to jump through the high hurdles of life and somehow end up in a safe space. I don’t feel safe anymore. I always get this sickening feeling that I am being watched. That someone is plotting to get me and I truly believe that I am running out of time. Running out of time to save myself. Save myself from whatever monster is either out there, actually trying to get me, or in my head – making me believe that someone is looking to harm me. I always try to put on a façade. I want everyone to think that I am fearless. Fearless of my priorities, fearless of my fears, fearless of the ship that is closing in on me. Truthfully, I am no fearless woman with strength. I am simply weak.

 When I see the shadows that play games with my brain, I cry.

I cry because I don’t know what is happening to me, and not knowing what is happening means that I am unable to protect myself.

It is now 02:15am on the 3^rd January 2017.

Earlier today my mother told me that a childhood friend’ father had passed away. This news did not fully hit me until I went into bed half an hour ago. I was, in essence, crying myself to sleep over a death that has haunted my heart. I hate death. I hate it when people remind me and tell me that this is what is expected – this is the inevitable. Yet despite this, I just cannot comprehend the very fact that this very life I’m struggling to manage, is ultimately one that can be taken away from me within a matter of seconds. Tonight, or shall I say this morning, I cry for all those families whose loved ones have been stolen away from them by death. I also cry for myself. I cry for not understanding what my purpose is in life, I cry because I am clueless as how I am supposed to live this very life that I am supposed to be grateful for. Tonight I remember my grandmother. Tonight I cry because I am angry at all those people who have forgotten the forgotten. I don’t like this feeling of emptiness that radiates from within me – in fact, I hate it. I want to scream and sob out loud but I do not want anyone to hear me. I am too much of a coward to show people my raw emotions. Too much of a coward to the extent that I am beating away at my keyboard writing this right now. I am too much of a coward that I haven’t offered any condolences to my childhood friend or her family. The truth is I don’t know what I would say to her. I would be lying if I said “things will get better”. You become numb to everything once grief has welcomed itself into your life. The numbness isn’t even the worst part. The worst part is that from supressing all the anger – anger at the world and its inhabitants, you will eventually break. When that happens I guess there is no hope. You can never mend a broken heart.  I want to laugh right now.

I am a shameful optimist.

To say the least, I am disappointed in myself. I thought that he would make it – my friend’s father. I had so much hope that he would beat the illness that robbed him off the opportunity to live a longer life that I almost forgot about the severe reality of the situation. It is not fair. It is not fair that anyone has to go through grief. I am sleepless because of how fearful I am of death. If I close my eyes tonight, I am not guaranteed that I will wake up tomorrow. It’s not that I don’t want to put my own family through grief, rather it is that I am afraid of the unknown - the afterlife. Will I run out of the chance to repent? I probably will. But even knowing this does not make me want to change my ways. I am too busy being wasteful. Too busy concerned about people who do not care about me, people who will never care about me. I don’t even know why I torture myself with trying to make things right between some people and I. I guess sometimes I am afraid that there will be an abrupt parting – a sudden death which means that I will probably end up feeling guilty for the rest of my life because this person died hating me.

I feel heavy right now. I thought writing this would help me feel lighter... maybe lift off the painful weight of emotions sitting tightly on my chest but only now have I realised that these emotions are forever bolted onto me.

It is now 14:00pm on the 5^th January 2017

I am currently sitting inside Starbucks. My heart bleeds as I type this, after witnessing the most devastating funeral. When I saw wife of the deceased trying to hold it together and be strong, I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.

Life is so unfair.

I am hurting so much right now, and only feel anger at myself for not thinking of the family of the deceased. I cannot fathom what they are all going through. The coffin was only meters away from me. A fresh, lifeless body lying there opposite me… it was heart breaking. I heard one woman say “everyone will die” and hearing that made me even more angry. Why must she mention this? Does she think that we don’t know any of this? Does she not know that the thought of death and dying petrifies every single one of us? Keeps us up at night?

I just don't understand anymore. Heck, I don't even think I ever understood the selfish nature of life. It tugs at you, breaks you; momentarily liberates you. But most days it is brutal and merciless.

Life hurts.

There is no other way of putting it.

It is now 18:38pm on the 28^th January 2017

It has been a while and I am disappointed in myself because of that. I’m so useless at commitment – commitment to my ‘Dear Diary’ series (I have decided that this is what I will call it) and most of all, commitment to the fucked up relationship I am (or not) still in. I am not sure if I even want to be with him forever, but I am mad as hell at myself for not going through with it till the very end.

It's the loneliest thing ever,

Waiting to be found...

A piece on The Gardens of Peace

I begin writing this on the train. I haven't been on for more than a minute yet I feel sweat trickling down my body.

This is normal on the London underground.

Today has been a weird day, largely due to my day at the Gardens of Peace cemetery in Redbridge. 

***

As we are driving up there, I feel a sense of fear. Fear for this brutal wake up call but also fear of how physically close I will be to death.

We enter the main hall and there's chatter everywhere - a greeting here, a friendly smile there - perhaps the occasional awkward eye contact. Things are normal. In the sense that we are complaining about the weather, the sudden numbness that has captured our toes. We huddle around the heater, whispering why the refreshments are situated on the men's side... 

(Male and females are segregated as this is a holy site)

The man who runs the cemetery introduces today's event - an educational day on the rituals of Islamic burials, and also a spiritual reminder for those too attached to this world.  I am guilty because i am one of 'those'.
I don't like the facts that he is giving us... I don't like death. He has a South African accent,  , quite like my primary school teacher, but soon this is rectified. My friend confirms it is Indian, although I am certain that it is South African. A couple gender equality jokes are dropped, the mood is lifted. Only briefly. 

"The cemetery is filling up."
 "The cemetery is almost full" he reminds us. Foetuses, babies, children, adults and the elderly - they are all filling up the cemetery. Death is not age bound. I feel sad. I am confused. Why children? Why babies? Foetuses too... My mind shifts into a different space.

Perhaps death is necessary. These mere corpses are at least at peace, away from the chaos and sadness in this world.
Syria, Palestine, Yemen and Somalia - just a few of the countries where innocent civilians are oppressed by their governments and terrorist groups.
These corpses - they are the lucky ones, saved from the bitterness of the world. It is true! They are better off dying with pure, innocent souls than having to battle with the forces of evil. 

I am brought back to reality when he announces (finally), the females can join the other side and have refreshments before the lesson on the burial process.

The room bursts into chatter once again whilst everyone queues up for the warmth of hot beverages. There are crisps at the coffee station, but i realise i am too late. Prawn cocktail is gone, so i settle for salt and vinegar and half a cup of coffee.

The room smells of coffee - it overfills and dominates the insides of my nose. I metally laugh, noting the irony of the strong smell of freshness and alertness which juxtaposes with the earthly smell of death just meters away.

There are a group of females delivering this session - three demonstrating the process of preparing the body for burial and a lecturer. Strangely, I am drawn to how soothing her voice is.  She is so calm, approaching each word with a majestic tone of gentility. 

I am so grateful.

Suddenly there is a sharp sound of the intake of air... Then, there is silence. The 'actor' is dead. I was not ready for that, I am not ready for death.
I take a sip of my half cup of coffee - 'half a cup'. This somehow is symbolic of my life. I am half ready. I am constantly half decided when it comes to decision making...

The steam of the coffee suddenly clouds my glasses.
I can't see. I am scared.
Attempting to distract myself from these overwhelming emotions, i open my packet of salt and vinegar crisps, cringing at the loud sound it makes. I feel guilty. I don't know why.

They replace the 'actor' for a dummy. Once again, i am grateful. The body is washed, so slowly, so intricate. The process is so intimate, i don't know whether i should feel ashamed or terrified. I am sympathetic towards the dummy, actually alluding 'it' to a human being. Remembering that I have subjected my whole life to being modest, only to be bare on a "standard body tray."

I shift my legs. They are getting numb from sitting down for too long. I don't like the feeling of numbness because not feeling reminds me of a sort of lifelessness - one that is strikingly similar to the thousands of dead bodies that surround me.

"Depending on the family preference, hair can be braided" says the woman whom I now associate tranquility with, despite her all black attire. I feel nostalgic. Braided hair reminds me of the childhood I am so desperate to revive.

I want to ask a question, but I don't dare raise my hand.

The final preparations are made and the body is wrapped in layers of cloth. Five layers of white cloth to be precise, ranging from 2-3 yards.

My mind drifts again. This time to the novel I have been writing my coursework on: 'The Great Gatsby'. Daisy wears white which is symbolic of coldness and a foreshadow of her association with Gatsby's death.

I don't like the colour white anymore.
White is empty, white is cold. White was once pure. White is now dark.

I look straight ahead - through the demonstration that is happening in front of me and take in the exterior setting. This place, this cemetery is so beautiful. I'm in awe of the clear windows which now projects a hopeful ray of sunlight. The sunlight which moments ago was freed by the clouds. I think of this as a sign, a reminder from my deity hinting to me that it will all be worth it. I want it to be worth it.

The woman tells us about a powder that is put on the layers of cloth to prevent insects nibbling away at the body. For the life of me i cannot remember the name of this powder... Comfeel? Camfil? Kamfeel?

Though the clear window I can see workers in the distance, wearing thick neon jackets to protect them from the coldness of the weather and that of death.

This place is so full of life!
I am awaken by the sounds of the seagulls and the various types of birds flying over the horizons. Big trees, small trees, green trees, yellow trees, bare trees. I am once again reminded of my childhood. The hyper effect that sweets had on me is somewhat parallel to the excited like effect the wind has on the trees. These contrasts slowly become overwhelming, reminding me that when I am dead life will just... Go on...

I shiver at the thought of that. I don't want that. Maybe this makes me selfish. I do not care.

The hijab (headscarf) is put on the dummy. We return to him in the way that we have been instructed to do so our whole lives. I think back to the point when we were told that during this whole process, those who are washing the body are forbidden to see the intimate parts of the body with their eyes. Instead the hands are the guide... I am moved by this. 

Finally, the finishing touches are made to the body, where there are two knots tied on each end (head and feet). This will make it easier for the body to be carried and put into the grave. I keep thinking about sweets. The wrapping of bounty from a celebration box is almost exactly what our bodies will look like when we are ready to be lowered down into the 6ft deep grave. In the centre of the body there is a separate piece of cloth that is tied like a bow. As if the body is a gift being passed onto someone. I mentally correct myself.

The body is a gift. The body is sacred. It belongs to The Lord.

Oops, one of the demonstrators rushes to the side and grabs a cloth she forgot to add. This time, it is only white but instead is full of life with different colours: blue, maroon and cream (cream and white are not the same).

The cloth flutters whilst it's being out on top of the body. The sight of this is beautiful.  

Someone asks a question. 

"Can the body be perfumed?" 

Yes, it can. 

I like this.

This session is being concluded. I am partially relieved because my legs painfully ache. This time another woman is doing the speaking. I notice there is a bluntness to her tone of voice. I miss the other woman. 

Another question is asked. Can we cry whilst we are doing this process on our loved ones. She quickly responds to this, clarifying the impossibility of not being emotive in this circumstance. Despite this she says we must try to control crying. I disagree, crying cannot be controlled.

Well, for me anyway.

We move on to the tour of the graves which is led by the man I thought had an South African accent (the stubborn part of me still does).  I should have gotten boots because my flats are very unsuitable for this occasion. We walk by a tuck shop where there is a man who is buying refreshments. Later on I am told he lost a 9 year old boy.
I wish i could run back and tell him how very sorry i am for his loss. But i know from experience that this won't ebb away his grief. 

We move along the beautiful sideway, where we stop. There is a different type of life here. There is an olive tree, pomegranate tree, a tree that grows ginger and there is even a palm tree. I am so awestruck by the way all this life flourishes in a 21 acre land of decomposing bodies.

The first section we are shown is the area where still born foetuses, and those up to 17 weeks are buried. The graves are all symmetrical, so perfectly lined up. They have no name plaques, these are nameless. Some of these have flowers on them, flowers that will soon wither like the rest of the bodies.

I want to scream, not cry because tears are silent.

Opposite this is the section where children up to 12 years are buried. My heart bleeds for the families who had to bury the children they thought would have buried them instead. These are the recognised - the ones with name plaques which faintly gives them a link with the world.

I am helplessly angry at this point.

Thankfully, we move forward towards the adult graves. I see two families within eye distance. The first is huddled towards a grave, facing the direction of the Holy site of Makkah reciting the words of The Almighty. The second however, is getting ready to leave. I assume it is the father who is holding the hands of a excited young girl - no more than 5 years old.

So clueless she is to the reality of the world. 

This, i am jealous of.

The man repeats to us that 6ft deep is the size that the grave is dug. I feel claustrophobic allofasudden, as i am leaning down looking at the grave.

We are now at the section where there are newly occupied graves. I feel connected to the recently deceased. No, actually i am connected to the recently deceased. They were once like me, i will be soon like them. 

The man concludes the tour with a final reminder of the reality that is guaranteed for us. He recites a few prayers and we are dismissed. 

Again, I am grateful.

We hurry through the path which we arrived, and I take in my surroundings one last time. I want to visit my Grandmothers grave but i am too much of a coward. My mood is different now. I feel so much. I am drowning in an array of emotions. Eventually, I am saved by my legs. I have reached the car park and am driven away, still in a whirlwind of emotions.

Please know that I am not biased in any way. It's just that we just zoomed by another cemetery and within the brief couple of seconds my eyes overlooked it, I am reminded of the aesthetic contrast it has to the Gardens of peace. 

The speed of the car fluctuates. I feel sick 

I close my eyes. I
open them. I close them again. 

I am grateful that I can do this. 

I am grateful I am here.

Because so long as I am here, I am given the opportunity to be good. 

To be good and to live good. 

I can and I will.

Its a cold February afternoon and i am disappointed in myself for thinking that it may be anything but cold.

Luckily for me today, I have nothing on my mental 'to do' list, so i am here typing away a thought that has been persistent on being translated into writing.

And yes, a mental 'to do' list because believe it or not, a physical 'to do' list on paper requires commitment.

I have so many things i want to accomplish in this short life but the problem is: Will i ever?

I want to become a writer, heck i have always wanted to write a novel for as long as i can remember. Pathetically, i have even written in my notes the type of novel i would write. I even went about confirming the title for this novel: "far from love" but then decided it was 'too' corny.

So i moved away from reading the typical female books and moved to reading crime novels which i am now in love with.
Literally.

Needless to say, i was partially proud of myself because i knew i wanted to do something (write a novel) and i did make an attempt to make that happen - how ever little it may seem.

Now what i want to say is that i know that there are so many people like me, who are so desperate for something, which to some extent may be unrealistic, or rather unachievable at this very moment in time. But who is to say that it cannot be possible at a later stage in your life? No one.

We are the agents of our own fate - we are the ones who decide and choose how we can make our dreams come to reality in this short life. I have said "short life" a couple of times and i want to emphasise that tomorrow is not guaranteed (sounds corny, i know).

But it is so true!!! You do not need to be religious to believe this, because how many lives have you seen taken away so quickly and suddenly?

Take control of your life and make an attempt no matter how small it is towards achieving the bigger picture. Whether it is writing a book in my case, or buying a home in your case, it is the small things that contribute to making a big difference.

Valentine's Day blues

All she wanted

All she wanted was his attention

The attention he gave everyone

       Everyone but her.

She didn't want anything materialistic from him

All she wanted was him

Every single part of him.

She loved happiness 

So all she strived for was his happiness 

She wanted to make him the happiest guy in the world.

She prayed for him

She cared about was his safety and well being

So at 2am, when her heart was flooded in worry 

she knelt                  

               down

 to her lord and prayed he would keep him safe

Safe for her.

He kept explaining to her

That it was those late nights at work

And the stress of studies

Which was distracting him.. Distracting him from her

She prayed for him again

This time, she prayed for God to ease all of his troubles.

The days went on.

And for her things got trickier

She had the pressure of studies to cope with

All she wanted was him to reassure her

Tell her that it will all be over soon

That one day this will all be worth it

And that one day they would be together, with their futures in their pockets.

But he didn't… 

And that was what had destroyed her

Instead he got even more busy

Her exhaustive attempts of contacting him were only futile

And just like that, he fell

      Off her radar 

She never heard from him again.

For her, she felt emptier than ever

All she wanted was happiness!

And he was her happiness

Her only chance of happiness

He was the sole lantern in her dark world

She prayed, and asked God to make things easy for her

And him too

She never abandoned him in her prayers.

But nothing happened

Confused as ever

She prayed again - this time asking God to give her a sign

"maybe he isn't the one"

She knelt 

              Down.

 In desperation for a sign

Desperate for THE sign

But nothing happened.

All she wanted was his attention

Just a few minutes of his time

Or a few hours

(Perhaps forever)

For him to confide in her

For him to tell her of all his troubles and the things that bothered him

But most importantly to tell her why he disappeared without saying goodbye

Like always, for her

Nothing happened.

***

All he wanted was a break

A break from work and studies

So he could talk to the girl his heart was so fond of

All he wanted was to tell her his problems

The things that ate him up and kept him awake at night

But also his plans for the future- the version which included her right by his side.

Unfortunately, like all

Time was against him.

He wanted to work hard

Spend those late nights at work

And concentrate on his studies

So he could provide for their future

In hopes of ensuring she was the happiest girl in the world.

Instead, he prayed

He asked God to help her understand

Understand why he had to leave abruptly 

All he wanted was for her to be happy and eased of any worries in the future.

But all she wanted was his attention.

***

Though this young girl and guy both believed they were connected by the soul 

Undeniably destined for each other 

And that one day their troubles would triumph in the near future 

Little did they both know

That God had different plans for them.

Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons Dangereuses

“I shall possess this woman; I shall steal her from the husband who profanes her: I will even dare ravish her from the God whom she adores. What delight, to be in turns the object and the victor of her remorse! Far be it from me to destroy the prejudices which sway her mind! They will add to my happiness and my triumph. Let her believe in virtue, and sacrifice it to me; let the idea of falling terrify her, without preventing her fall; and may she, shaken by a thousand terrors, forget them, vanquish them only in my arms.” 

***

How powerful is this? You honestly cannot and will never know the intentions of some people. That is why have this thing called 'trust'. You have to trust yourself to trust someone else.

It is weird right? Sometimes hard, but you often find yourself trusting those who have already broken that trust between you and them.

 Its confusing too right? Too confusing i am not even going to attempt explaining away how to make trusting someone or even yourself in a simple way.

Being positive, no matter what situation you may have accidentally stumbled upon is crucial.

2015

As the year draws to an end, I can't help but reflect on everything that has happened. Lost loves, major qualifications achievements, family, and lastly a lot of adjustments. Needless to say, overall this year has been a successful in terms of education. I completed my core qualifications and attained admirable results, and moved on to studying three intellectually challenging a levels. I am humbled, and thankful for the opportunity I've been given to have an education and to be able to progress into a career of my own choice. However, other aspects of my life this year have not been as successful as my studies. 

Friendships have always been difficult for me. Similar to many, throughout my younger years I was a victim of bullying. Having later overcome this, I have been hesitant on developing friendships as well as being a part of a 'group'. Midway through secondary school, my parents agreed that it would be best for me to study elsewhere because of the events which unfolded during that academic year. I started a small private school, which I felt comfortable and 'at home' within the first few days as it was an Islamic institution with students I could relate to. The one and half years I spent there were by far the most memorable, and enjoyable moments in my entire life. I made a close friend whom I held very close to my heart. Having said that, fast forward now, the friend who grew close to heart as a sister simply cut me off her life. Devastation, regret and sadness are just a few words which sum up  my feelings whenever I reminisce the friendship I built over the years with her. 6 months later, I am still learning to stop feeling sorry for myself and beginning to let her go. The truth is that you just cannot be a burden to someone who does not want you to be apart of their life. 

In an attempt to let things go, I wrote a small poem:

I wish I could make you understand 

How hard it has been for me 

Since the day the curtains were drawn on the stage we were performing on.

Performing on a new stage is hard on it's own 

But not knowing your lines, 

And performing alone

Is even worse.

I wish I could make you understand 

But I need to stop feeling sorry for myself

I just need to push myself throughout this entire performance 

Be strong. 

I could never resent you for the choices you are making in your life 

Even if those choices don't include me in the script. 

A lesson learned from this friendship is that life is so unpredictable. Never did I think I would be in the situation I am today. People change, circumstances change - you just need to be able to pick yourself and quickly adapt to those changes. A struggle? Yes. But it has to be done, you cannot let your life go downhill because of a failed friendship or whatever it is that did not go right. 

Adapting to a new environment, with new people has certainly been a difficulty for me. Prior to beginning sixth form, I had vowed to myself that I would steer clear of any friendships and would absolutely not become attached to the social side of higher education. Whenever people hear this, I am almost instantly criticised for being 'such a bore!' My response:"I cannot afford to be diverted from my number one priority which is establishing my future". It is as simple as that. For me, the less I am involved deeply with individuals, the more I am invested thoroughly in myself. 

One of the major discoveries I had learned about myself this year is my love for crime novels and TV series! I have become deeply fixated on crime and the topic of evil. During my free time, I religiously spend my time to reading both fiction and non fiction novels based on this area of interest. A proud accomplishment, is the number of books I have read during 2015 which totaled to an impressive: 56 

Among this, are my favorite crime novelists, Chris Carter, Tess Gerritsen, Edger Allen Poe, Karen Rose, Richard Montanari and Tania Carver. All the mentioned authors have effortlessly written novels with plots which take you into another world. For TV series, my favorites this year are: The Blacklist, The following, Blindspot, and Criminal minds!  

All in all, I am blessed to be alive and in good health. A reminder for me everyday is to be thankful for being alive - no matter how challenging or grey some days may be, it is all part of life. I am excited for the upcoming year of 2016. I know this year will be an even better one. Why? Because I have overcome my fears and obstacles and am entering this year with a positive outlook. 

Happy new year!