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Heavy heavy heart. Cannot stop crying.

there’s no one to confide in… except You, ya Allah.

:’( 

I feel like… a failure. 

This emotional turmoil has got to go. I feel like slapping myself everytime I break down in front of another person. Happened before years ago, and happened again.

Ya Allah please please please guide me. Indeed, it is a truly a challenge, to struggle.

Waterworks please stop. Ya Allah. Help me. Guide me.

I didn’t give my mother anything today. Nor did I treat her to some expensive dinner. Meh. Why are Mothers’ Days so commercialized. 

But anyway.

Apart from paying for my weekend classes, car petrol and parking charges, my next aim for my savings from bursaries (if i do get them still, insyaAllah) is to go hajj with my parents. I mean it. InsyaAllah. 

I rarely dream during my sleep
actually but that was a terrible one. But subhanallah, i remember saying in the dream “laa illahaillallah muhammdurrasulullah” and then i instantaneously woke up. A’uzubillahiminasyaitanirrajim. Astaghfirullahal’azim.

Ah a sign of me to do my prayers. Alhamdulillah i am still alive for a new day.

Time to strengthen your iman, Zah.

charge your iman charge your iman charge your iman 

:’(

—

— Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl 

This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous), and their doubts about religion.