Royally Blue

Chapter One

Qulsum pov:

I feel trapped as I look around the room, staring at the walls. Even though I can walk out of the room whenever I want, I still feel trapped. I feel as though I am living in someone else's body. It started at the beginning of 8th grade. Dissociative disorder. I've gotten pretty used to it by now, but the question still remains the same. What am I even so stressed about? I'm not so sure about that.

I know I should want to get rid of this disorder, but I can't help but want to hold on to it. It's helped me spiritually a lot. Whenever I get the feeling of not being real, I can't help but wish to get closer to Allah (SWT). I am reminded that this world is only temporary. Each time I'm reminded, I can't help but let go of materialistic things. It also reminds me that I need to ready myself for death, not just mine but also my loved ones' deaths.

I looked around my room one last time before going back to my assignment, mostly at the walls. Once I finish my assignment, I go on my phone. Bored out of my mind, I have no clue what to do. " Qulsum!" I hear Mama call me. "What is it!!" I reply louder than necessary. Nothing, I wait a little longer for a reply but hear Mama call my name again. I suck in my breath, 'Why does she always do this?' I think to myself. Feeling sorry for myself, I dragged myself down the stairs. "Yes, Mama." I ask when I get downstairs. "Finally, go wash two onions and chop them. You're helping me with iftar." I force myself to do as she says, for the sake of Allah, I tell myself.

Remember, 'And your Lord has decreed that you worship not except Him, and to parents, good treatment. Whether one or both of them reach old age [while] with you, say not to them [so much as], "uff,"1 and do not repel them but speak to them a noble word.' (17:23 of the Holy Quran)

Have sabr (patience) Aaliyah, ironic, isn't it, I can't even call myself by my name because of this feeling. Because of these thoughts. The voices that tell me I'm just living someone else's life. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't think of my family as my own. I peel the onions, wash them, and start chopping them. My eyes start to tear up and sting, I hate the kitchen!

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I'm sorry for the very short chapter, I just started the book and am very lost as to what I'm going to do with the book. I'm just planning on going with the flow, and whatever comes to my mind, I'll write it down. I know I have another book that I published before this one, and I haven't even begun to write in that one. The truth is I forgot to write down the ideas I had for the book and am trying to remember them.

Let me know what you think about this chapter, I feel like I added too much on her mental health when it's only the first chapter. What do you guys think?