Step 1: Admit.

"you know what's sad?"

"a lot of things can be sad, right?"

"no i mean what's sad about ... this?!"

"whatever it is ... you're gonna pull through. always have, okay?"

"that's the thing - because i was always able to pull through, i am scared to tell people that i'm not okay."

"scared?"

"yes i'm scared that they will judge me for not able to keep it all together. or even worst ... they won't even believe that it could happen to me because to them ... i'm strong, get it? i'm scared that they will call me ... weak."

"(silent)"

"but i am not weak, i'm just very vulnerable right now. i've never felt so ... disturbed - mostly by my own thoughts. dude, i'm not doing so well. i feel like i'm ... drowning."

"but i know you, you'll pull through because you're a fighter!"

"no dude, you're wrong. i'm just a human ... i can't fight all the time."

Defeat.

I don't understand
the situation I am in.
Is this a punishment?
Was I arrogant? 

Too long I kept it all
together, and well.
Was I arrogant-
thinking that I was that strong?

I was keeping everyone
I love away from negativity...
I really fought hard.
Did they get into me instead? 

Ya Allah,
help me through this.
Help me understand why
am I falling apart.

warsan shire: introduction.

"the kitchen" 

by warsan shire


half a papaya and a palmful of sesame oil;
lately, your husband’s mind has been elsewhere.

honeyed dates, goat’s milk;
you want to quiet the bloating of salt.

coconut and ghee butter;
he kisses the back of your neck at the stove.

cayenne and roasted pine nuts;
you offer him the hollow of your throat.

saffron and rosemary;
you don’t ask him her name.

vine leaves and olives;
you let him lift you by the waist.

cinnamon and tamarind;
lay you down on the kitchen counter.

almonds soaked in rose water;
your husband is hungry.

sweet mangoes and sugared lemon;
he had forgotten the way you taste.

sour dough and cumin;
but she cannot make him eat, like you.

please.

my regrets, my fears, my doubts, my wishes, my wants, my feelings - let me write them down. i speak my own truth, with genuine intentions - i don't mean any harm.

let me tell my stories to the only thing that's willing to put up to me, and won't tire easy. everybody will leave, eventually - but this will stay.

it isn't comfortable talking - not when my voice would cracked in the middle of a conversation ... with lumps in my throat. this is my canvas - to help me understand and appreciate my own journey better. i found a space (my space) and in it i feel safe.

so please don't take my voice, my stories, my words - no, not this. i love words - and you should know this ... by now.

zikir.

seolah berbisik,
lafaznya lembut.
ku ulanginya 
di setiap celah
helaan nafasku.

di lidahku manis, 
ia menenangkan.
Ya Allah, Ya Tuhanku...
namamu bagaikan candu,
ku ucapkan tanpa jemu.

sabar.

"hai ayyub,
seandainya engkau berdoa kepada Tuhanmu,
niscaya dia akan membebaskanmu."

"aku telah hidup selama 70 tahun dalam keadaan sehat,
dan Allah baru mengujiku dalam keadaan sakit selama 7 tahun.
ketahuilah, itu amat sedikit dibandingkan masa 70 tahun."

antara kisah-kisah nabi, kisah ayyub (a.s.) adalah kegemaran. lagi-lagi sekarang bila umur dah nak masuk petang, dan hati makin berbelang-belang.

kalau diberiNya kesempatan; kisah ayyub (a.s.) yang pertama akan dibacakan untuk anak-anak nanti. insya Allah.

dan kisah yunus (a.s.) yang kedua.

danger.

he walked in, on a monday.

a stranger; a tall and dark stranger.

reminding you of the ocean -

wild, and dangerously loud.

he was bursting confidence.

charismatic and ambitious;

a walking charm.

oh darling, you were intrigued.

he made you smile,

and he left you wanting more.

like a snake he slithered closer,

and he touched you.

that night he offered you his hands,

a promise of security, and warmth.

and there you stood, staring at him...

an untamed ocean with a promise of warmth.

little did he know you;

a broken soul.

intoxicated by yourself,

a living nightmare.

he was towering over you

but a man-child could never shake you. 

with a smirk, you started walking

only stopping ten steps later...

"sorry, i don't do married men".

ikutan.

"apakah yang menghalangimu 

untuk bersujud (kepada adam) 

diwaktu Aku menyuruhmu?" 

"saya lebih baik daripadanya, 

Engkau ciptakan aku dari api 

sedang dia Engkau ciptakan dari tanah." 

ego, pertama;

iblis.

fantasy.

the stories in my head
were better than my reality -
that was when i knew
it wasn't healthy.

5 seconds.

people have attention spans of 5 seconds,
most can talk - but they hardly listen.

5 seconds, that's all they can take...
before they are dead, again.

news.

bad people stories,
all over the media.
it makes you feel better,
talking theirs and not yours.

"she is wrecked,
thanks to that douche."
heroes and villains,
you're happy that you get to choose.

it's easier to pass judgements,
than to receive them.
so you keep on talking theirs,
and never yours.

walls.

she liked him;
he liked her.
but they were two broken souls,
they built walls, not bridges.

time had never been their strong suit.
he walked on hers,
and within his she fell deeper
than his heart would care to let him.

she didn't see it,
his mind was messed up.
he didn't see it,
he messed her up.

when words ran dry,
stagnant they stood
behind their castle walls,
with fearful eyes.

she liked him;
he liked her.
but it was not that simple-
love never was.

close.

it feels like-
i’m breathing with my stomach;
i’m thinking with my throat; and
i’m walking on my heart.

it had to be done.
it needed to stop.
and it’s okay,
we’ll be okay.

i’m trying really hard.
to breath with my lungs;
to think with my head; and
to walk on the ground, again.

i’m sorry.
i should go.