DISCLAIMER: this is a piece of fictional work. most of my creative writings are fictional.
2:22 am.
she wakes up lightheaded and exhausted. she finds herself waking up with a heavy heart each morning…wondering when this feeling will pass.
she always saw emotions as tides. they come and they pass. she was a strong believer in letting tides hit you & letting them leave on their own. they call that "letting nature take its course". to some it was bullshit. even to her it was bullshit but she clung onto that belief out of pain. sometimes when you're mourning it's good to hold onto something. but it can be damaging if the hope is false hope.
2:32 am.
she's still on her bed. lying on her back thinking about how she'll go on about her day, while holding onto her father's tasbih beads that he got from Mecca. her father was a well respected man in the community & in her heart. this wasn't always the case with her relationship with her father. their relationship was always rocky and messy. but the older she's gotten the more she realized that he was the way he was because he wasn't loved properly as a child. her mother changed him. for the better. he became an imam. a better father. a better husband. she forgave him for the past. he was blood after all & she was a part of him.
she realizes that she's been sleeping with those prayer beads in her hands every night for a week now. she's built a bond with it just like a child builds a bond with a blanket. she's never built an attachment to inanimate objects like that before. not even as a child. she knew what this meant. she was so lonely. she was always lonely though, but this time she didn't know how to cope. she was making up for all the people she lost in those beads. she was slowly turning to God again.
2:45 am
she finally gets up. her feet touch the ground as she feels the cold air hit her neck. she's wide awake now. each step she takes is slow & heavy. she keeps forgetting what to do or where to walk to anymore. her mind is always roaming to other places. she reaches for her cigarette pack in her drawer. she knows it's too late for a cigarette but she needs to calm her thoughts somehow. she always hated the smell of cigarettes. it always reminded her of dirt & depression. she always pitied people who smoked cigarettes. she always thought they were ill minded & ignorant people. it never made sense to her why people continued to kill themselves slowly with cigarettes. but here she was…smoking cigarettes. it took the edge off. she was always on edge. always on the edge to fight. she hated herself with each puff she took. all she thought about was her poor lungs & her health. bad health always ran in her family, especially lung problems. but she didn't care anymore. she's been through hell & back too many times to count to care for anything.
2:57 am
it was almost 3 am. she opens her cigarette pack and finds herself smoking her third cigarette. she always smokes three cigarettes whenever she's stressed out of her mind. three. her mother always said good things came in odd numbers. i guess she was right.
3:05 am
she had no one anymore. just her prayer beads and her cigarette pack. she knew she was already on the path of self destructing. everyone abandoned her & she was replacing all those abandoned memories with destruction. she was always in the middle of things. she'd pray by day & destruct by night. that's what the dunya does to you. everyone says there's always light at the end of every dark tunnel. but she wasn't seeing a tunnel anymore, all she saw was a dead end.
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