Dear you,
I've left too many books unfinished to feel complete. I've left too many stories that I've written unfinished to call myself a real writer. I've left bits and pieces of me scattered everywhere that I feel I'll never ever feel complete.
I often wonder if we're supposed to feel this way in the first place; after all, isn't this incompleteness what pushes us forward in life? To do the things we dream of doing?
Today at work I went to an empty room, sat alone and cried. I just wanted out. Out of everything. Out of myself. Out of my words, my thoughts, my feelings. Out of my soul. I wanted out. But I was stuck, still am stuck. I don't know how to leave these thoughts, and I keep begging them to leave me, in the middle of nowhere; I don't care. All I want is to feel free of any shackles that mess up with the person I used to be.
--
When I think about the positives I have in life, I know I have a lot. I know that I'm a good writer and that I have a heart that wants good for everyone, and even when I feel that my nafs doesn't want this, I try so hard to let go of bad thoughts because I do want people to be happy. I know that I have a fiance that I wouldn't have thought he existed even in my most colourful dream. I know that I have a beautiful family whose love for me goes beyond the traditional ways. I know that I'm different and that I'm not a copy of the herd I see every day. But it's how often, I remember these things, that matters the most. It's how often I remind myself that I'm not that terrible, not at all terrible, to want to just end my life with every obstacle that comes in the way.
I know I'm good. I know I am. I just need a daily reminder, deeper than words, deeper than silence. A body language that would make all the difference in my life and make me feel alive again.
Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.
I've left too many books unfinished to feel complete. I've left too many stories that I've written unfinished to call myself a real writer. I've left bits and pieces of me scattered everywhere that I feel I'll never ever feel complete.
I often wonder if we're supposed to feel this way in the first place; after all, isn't this incompleteness what pushes us forward in life? To do the things we dream of doing?
Today at work I went to an empty room, sat alone and cried. I just wanted out. Out of everything. Out of myself. Out of my words, my thoughts, my feelings. Out of my soul. I wanted out. But I was stuck, still am stuck. I don't know how to leave these thoughts, and I keep begging them to leave me, in the middle of nowhere; I don't care. All I want is to feel free of any shackles that mess up with the person I used to be.
--
When I think about the positives I have in life, I know I have a lot. I know that I'm a good writer and that I have a heart that wants good for everyone, and even when I feel that my nafs doesn't want this, I try so hard to let go of bad thoughts because I do want people to be happy. I know that I have a fiance that I wouldn't have thought he existed even in my most colourful dream. I know that I have a beautiful family whose love for me goes beyond the traditional ways. I know that I'm different and that I'm not a copy of the herd I see every day. But it's how often, I remember these things, that matters the most. It's how often I remind myself that I'm not that terrible, not at all terrible, to want to just end my life with every obstacle that comes in the way.
I know I'm good. I know I am. I just need a daily reminder, deeper than words, deeper than silence. A body language that would make all the difference in my life and make me feel alive again.
Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.
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