I lied. I love studying. I love university. I love my professors. I love my courses. I love doing readings. I love writing papers. My light is back. My heart is in place. Put me back in 2nd grade and I'll OBLITERATE them like I did the first time.
Some find joy as though it is something lying loose in the grass while others go through life with both hands open, gathering what they can, only to watch it sift away between their fingers like sand on a cold morning beach.
There is freedom in admitting that some things may have nothing to teach me. Perhaps I am unlucky in the old, senseless way that some people are born with a crooked smile or a tendency to bruise.
I cannot bring myself to call myself unlucky. There is too much beauty in my life for that, too many mornings that have belonged entirely to me, too many strange mercies that could never have been planned. Yet I suffer. I am tormented by all that is life.
Wallahi, I assure you that Allah is Al Mujib. When you make du'a, it is never ignored. The answer comes in different forms: sometimes Allah grants it immediately, sometimes He delays it to test your patience and other times He replaces it with something far better.
You meet someone new and y'all bond so effortlessly and you are like "where have you been all my life?”
Two months later they go back to where they have been all your life.
“ugh the gifted child curse”
have you considered you were just slightly ahead of your peer group until you let your untreated mental disorders stunt you into a life of quiet desperation