Only my tear-soaked pillow is witness to my pleading, begging and wailing for Your mercy, help, guidance and abundance.
I trust You will answer in due course. I have no other choice.
~~~
She was right: when you're alone, crying in the dark of the night, there's just you and no-one else.
No effing one.
~~~
But, funnily enough, yesterday I finally found some Rumi-inspired comfort in that shattering solitude. It forces you to bleat "Allah" and "Help me" again and again, and communicate solely with Him. No one else is there to depend on, you don't look to His servants to unravel only what He can. You know that if any help is to come, it's only by His Grace and Might. And if it is withheld, that too is a result of His Knowlege and Mercy.
Honestly, if I hadn't bought that cute Alan Titchmarsh bucket radio at the Bits and Bobs shop last Saturday, I really don't know how I would have survived last night. Radio DJs are idiots and say the daftest things, but last night they may have saved my life. Absolute Radio and 98.5 Capital FM, to be exact.
Et la musique est la musique toujours... je ne peux jaimais la laisser. It has pulled me through when other things could never. I couldn't read any of those Buddhist or mindfulness or psychic books. I was crying too much. I just curled into the ball we all curl into, hugged myself and listened for my life, changing the stations at frequent intervals because there are many songs I just cannot stand. Which is why I need a new MP3 player. Or an iPhone..... drool! All in good time.
What is pathetic, however, is that I'm now 26 years old, I now have the city of London sprawling at my feet, and I have managed to survive the ol' black dog somehow - and here I am, still stuck at home, sobbing into my pillow, listening to the BSB, Natalie Imbruglia, Lionel Ritchie, Take That, Bach, Beethoven, Usher, Taio Cruz, Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga in my dark, curtain-drawn bedroom.
Five years... no, wait, ten years and nothing has changed. I have at least fifty quantum Sukainas all over the world, living all the lives that I could have been living had I made different decisions at crucial points. I might have even.... no, I am NOT going there.
And all I have is my tiny lizard brain, continually biting me in the ass.
The only plus I can find in all of this is that, now, instead of things being dragged on for aeons because of my stupid INFP tendency to be bad at ending relationships, or not being able to see that if things aren't working, get out while you can and save yourself the weirdness...
... I am now meeting people (and the people already in my life are taking notes) who are rejecting and ignoring me much more frequently and in a much shorter time frame. I am roughly pushed to "de-limpetise", to stop looking to others for my sense of worth and purpose.
I am left when I cross boundaries that other people have forgiven me for. Every single person in my life has forgiven me for my rude behaviour with them. Even violent behaviour: my dad and my younger khala have both sort of forgiven me. My dad still brings it up whenever he pleases, as a skeleton in my closet to shake off t he dust every once in a while. But they both still speak to me.
Even my older khala, whom I haven't spoken to since 18 November 2010 (Eid ul Adha), still thinks of me and finally called me up last week and left a message (I haven't called back.).. She's pissing mad at me, but I can't be bothered to deal with more negativity. But I shall have to call her... anyway... meandering....
The people who aren't in my life, who've ignored my Facebook messages or emails are usually people that I can now do without, they are of an unsatisfactory relationship past. If I tried to reconnect, it was because of social mores or me trying to be nice or tie up loose ends: congratulating Hareem on getting engaged, or emailing Ayesha for an update after I was low on her birthday and therefore didn't call her. But since I keep deleting them from Facebook, and I obviously no longer need to be in their lives or them in mine, I need to stop contacting those people when I'm in a good mood. Because I end up deleting them when I'm in a low mood.
Meandering again...
I am slapped awake and then must painfully grow another layer of backbone and brush off every single pining, longing, resentful, hurting, bruising feeling... or, rather, brush off my dependency on them.Truly comprehend, in no uncertain terms, that no matter how dazzling and fluid a connection I had with them, they had with me or we had with each other, they obviously do not want to "continue this any further". The purpose is now served, if we are not compatible (which we aren't), go on your merry way, Missy. At the mo, this obviously is with reference with Imran Lakha.
And now, surprisingly, includes Sidra Zaidi.
What I don't understand is that if this many people have come and now have served their purpose and have left my life, why am I not attracting new people who "see" me? The newbies who will enter my bubble. I have a permasoul tribe.
Being with people who raise me up. Who I connect brilliantly with and who seamlessly connect with me. With whom I belong, finally. Who are with me for a lifetime. The people who are already in my life, I appreciate and am forever grateful for. But, now, here, all I'm getting are those here for a reason or a season. Not that I'm complaining - okay, it's quite obvious I am... :p
Take my photos on Facebook as an example.
I'm usually alone. Some are with a cat, a statue of Winnie-tha-Pooh, or one or two or four friends at best. The group photos are socially engineered. I feel nothing for those people. I only keep those because I look good in them, or they remind me of my trips to Cuba and to Iran (and that if I did it in the past, it can happen this year, too.)
I've changed my mind for the mo: I don't want to fall in love so easily again. For a while. It's almost certainly going to be unrequited. Again. My track record is irrefutable evidence.
And, surprisingly, it didn't take me as long to fall in love as it is in falling out of it.
Take it from me: don't share or associate any songs with your person until you're definitely tying the knot. Because, when things fall apart, you won't be able to bear to listen to those songs for a long while. The effects of hearing those songs will be reminiscent of the unbearable sound of fingernails on ice. And when you can finally bear to listen to them, you'll think of just them. Years onwards, even if it's just a cursory thought.
It's been twelve years since my crush on Armughan, and I still remember him for a brief moment whenever I listen to Tearin' Up My Heart.
Surprisingly, however, I have somehow managed to reclaim Random Blinking Light, Sakeenah and Everybody Hurts from the latest person (wow, right now, I can't even bring myself to write his name). Those songs are MINE. Not his. He doesn't deserve my songs; I have already given him too much.
*Random memory: he told me about how he had a long line of stalkers, beginning from A levels. I felt envious: I've never had anybody like me like that. Or, preferably, in a healthier, reciprocal relationship. Score is still nil.*
But I think Unlovable is going to stick.
Perhaps that label will stick to me as a person, rather than to my memories of him.
And will stick to his final reactions and thoughts about me.
Dear Sukaina,
Get over it. Please.
Love,
Sukaina
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