A Letter To Someone Who Died

“write hard and clear about what hurts.”  

                                             Ernest Hemingway 

dear mom,

i am losing my head, what part of me that held onto this world, ever so lovingly, is dissipating, whithering and wilting, responding to the harsh gravity of grief, it’s been a year 200 days 9 hours 55 minutes 6 seconds, and i can still feel the sadness you left in your wake, the pain, the hurt, the void i’ve now learned to ignore. i miss you, i always will.

  forever & always,

                danah 

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i’ve been a bit busy as of late, what with ramadan and eid, so excuse my lack of updating, lots of love and happy eid đź’•

she ran the sharp metal blades along her wrist, gently at first, as though she was terrified of cutting herself too deep, of damaging herself further. for a moment, she contemplated abandoning her self destructive intentions, she almost did, but then she felt an uneasiness otherwise associated with pain and she was reminded of the beauty of emotions, she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to suppress the stinging of the thin wounds that now graced her pale wrists, again, she thought, again, now deeper and slower, savor every flinch, every flicker of pain, every sensation, all of it, her voice of reason quickly arose from the very depths of her twisted brain, it reprimanded her, do not do this, do not do this, you do not want your friends interrogating you, don’t. don’t. dont. don’t. she was torn trying to provide for the temporary mental relief and the permenant physical wellness. A human body was incapable of containing both her longing for safety and such dangerous and toxic thoughts. and so compromises were to be made, pain was to be inflicted, and skin was to be scarred
why, Melody, why do you hurt yourself like that? 
Melody has been asked this by her boyfriend of 2 years multiple times, and the overwhelming nature of the raw emotions that overcame her near dysfunctional brain at the mention of the reasoning behind her hastily made decisions kept her from doing her numbness justice. but now that she was confined to the four walls that have contained her turmoil of emotions for as long as she can remember, answers came to her like moths did to light, her scars were like the elegant lines and swirls of a paintbrush on a canvas, thin and soft, they told a story of pain and torture, a story of long forgotten emotions, and to her, they were beautiful, they were wrong in every sense, but all the more beautiful. melody didn’t care, she liked her brain, she liked her misery, she INDULGED in her misery, she didn’t identify as a mentally unstable person, she liked the way she was, the voices in her head were the only voices she’d heard for the last few weeks, her voice was rusty and thick from misuse, and the voices were now reassuring rather than unsettling. a soft melody sounded through her door, a door which did little to conceal her earth shattering wails, and her body immediately responded, bending and swaying to the tune, her arms moved graciously, accentuating her curves, she danced until the air was knocked out of her lungs, until spots littered her peripheral vision, and she drifted into a deep slumber, a dangerous smile gracing her pink chapped lips, she was broken beyond fixing, and that made her different and beautiful.

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Dedicated to Mr. Gregory Gray, perhaps the only teacher who lended me an ear, listened to me, and regarded me with interest. I have mad respect for this incredible teacher. Lots of love, Danah

What did he take her for? An imbecile? Jamila found his way of addressing her very degrading to the hours she spent reading and learning about the matter, yes she was only 16 but this by no means served as an excuse for him to regard her as though she knew nothing about anything, she refused to let her age define her abilities, who’s to say that the youths of today can’t make a change? Are all teenagers supposed to act recklessly? Are they all supposed to share the same interests of drinking, getting high, and flunking school tests? Why can’t we accept that people have different mental capacities and that we don’t all share the same perceptions of life? Jamila’s thoughts clouded her judgment and she impulsively started lecturing her teacher on how the fact that she’s only 16 doesn’t define her ability to do maths, she was spilling her thoughts, thoughts she spent days on days contemplating, to a teacher twice her age secretly earning his respect.

 the future is defined by today’s generation, it is the product of the quality of life we receive, it’s the product of years and years of experience, underestimating our ability of understanding life will only wear down our esteem, it will only hinder our ability of accepting ourselves and encompassing the genius thoughts that occur to us, it will plant a sense of ignorance and indifference in us, for that reason (and many others) one should take the time to listen to others, especially those younger, for you never know! 

London Bridge Attack: Inhumane, Atrocious, and Non-Muslim  

“Humanity is but a single brotherhood, so make peace with your brethren.”  (The Quran 49:10)

Today, I woke up to news of more bloodshed, to a world who’d lost 7 of its innocent and unsuspecting civilians, I am truly and utterly disheartened by the news (as anyone in their right minds would be), but to say that I was surprised would be a lie and that scared me lots, the fact that terrorism is now becoming to feel like the new normal, the frequency of such horrific attacks has brought a new and disgusting sense of normality to the situation. But I refuse to function in fear, I refuse to accept such vileness, I refuse to lose my faith in mankind. As per usual, accounts of the assailants shouting ‘this is for Allah’ were shared, further tarnishing the global image of Islam. But that’s not the problem you see, in every good there is bad and in every bad there is good, Islam is a fairly good religion, one I’ve followed for all of my life, one I solemnly believe in and continue to practice until this day, the fact that some people have chosen to commit crimes in its name is utterly devastating and it’s also the biggest misrepresentation of all. I’d like to say that I know a lot but in all honesty, I know what the media broadcasts, that’s what I know, I watch the news and I read the newspaper, and only a few months ago have I begun to realize that the media is no dependable source, -I’ve lived this, it’s not just a baseless claim- (I grew up in Egypt for most of my childhood and just recently moved to the Emirates, back in Egypt, during the 25/1 revolts, international media outlets would share very violent depictions of the ongoing terror, but in all honesty, half of what was told was false, exaggerated, and unreal) what you see on TV isn’t reality it’s what they want you to see, and I’ve only recently come to that realization, speaking of, the media has chosen to blame muslims, specifically those who belong to the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (Isis) the first question that comes to my mind at the mention of such brutal force is their source of income, of Isis is what the media claims it to be, then it is utterly beyond me that they can afford such heavy weaponry without receiving any external aid,how can they possibly escape America’s watchful eye? It just doesn’t add up, who’s to say that this isnt just another American Intelligence ploy? (Because Muslims have been subjected to the torturous tactics of this state, they’ve bombed mosques, killed children, violated women, all in the name of Islam. )We need to get real, we need to start focusing on what actually matters, The government is clearly after the wrong people, which makes it easier for one to commit crimes within said country. Instead of blaming Muslims, let us join forces to beat this, to eliminate terror and injustice, instead of blaming each other, lets spread love and kindness across the land, we are all human, we have to stand as a unified front, how are we to beat ISIS when we’ve failed to find peace amongst ourselves? Trump is trolling the Mayor of London, barely 12 hours after the incident, now tell me, how can you expect us to eliminate danger when we can’t unite to fight it? 

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It’s sad how some have time to go around bothering people and contributing to their already crumbling state, it’s sad that some have it in them to rationalize bullying. it’s sad how people of color still have to deal with segregation and prejudice, it’s sad how a billion years into our creation, females are still looked down on, it’s sad how differences are not celebrated but feared. There’s so much sadness and misery in this world. 

Was that a sunset or a sunrise?

This was written on the twenty fifth of October of 2015, a few weeks before my mom passed away.                                           



“Time goes by fast when you’re apathetic to everything that surrounds you. Everything is monotonous and rushed, insincere and cold, tedious and harsh. I wonder if life is worth enduring all the pain for, I wonder if withstanding all this bullshit is worth it.
I think a lot, I analyze everything I experience and everyone I encounter, I read to much into everything, I have what I like calling a monkey brain, jumping from one conclusion to the next, never at peace, this means countless sleepless nights and constant fatigue.

I just finished reading a book about alien abductions, and it got my brain going.

I hold a deep resentment for the conclusions people have drawn about self harm. I don’t think anyone self harms because they don’t think they’re worth it or because their faults outnumber their good traits. I’m not self destructive but I’ve had dangerous thoughts, and I think that if I were to cut or self harm I’d do it to honor all my invisible scars, they’d pose as a physical embodiment of all the pain and hurt that stains my frail heart. 

Which brings me to the next order of business; suicide. Everyone is all over depressed people, so many people are convinced that they’re helping by medicating them and drowning their worries with doses of serotonin, but here’s what I think. 

I think that depression isn’t a war you win, but a battle you fight everyday. There’s no pausing, there’s no stopping. suicide is you giving in to the mocking shrill voices scolding you and criticizing your every move.  It’s as persistent as the headache and nausea that follow a bottle of vodka wasted on drowning the memories secured in our past. I think that depression is black, it’s the complete absence of emotion, it’s numbness gnawing away at your brain and eventually driving you to irrational decisions, and I think that suicide is more than despair. The correct way to define it would be indifference, it’s when you’ve got nothing to live for and every reason to die, it’s when everything tastes bland, it’s hollow. It’s the monsters of our pasts haunting us. It’s the consistent need for the perfect peace of nothingness. That’s what I believe.

I’ve known a few people to be depressed, but I’ve never considered that I might be another unhappy resident wasting oxygen and consuming the edible goods available to me. Ive been told that we often project our feelings and find different ways of expressing them. Feelings of despair are often translated into the persistent attempts at making everyone else’s lives better. Maybe that’s me. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Whatever.”

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