Pita, continued

Chap.20, Salt in the wound.

Had I mention that Tarik O is Haris's cousin? Well, it's crucial for this part of the story. I said that freshman year Tarik was in my Geometry class. In November, I sat at a table with him and Tori. Tori was a sophomore who I quickly became friends with. I talked to her, and so did Tarik. That eventually led to me talking to Tarik. I didn't harbor that hatred for him that I used to anymore. I used to find him repulsive, for some reason I was actually enjoying our conversations. I think at the beginning I figured I would just try and become friends with him to get closer to Haris. But I soon realized that would be an issue.

The more I thought about Tarik, the less I hated him. I was staring not hate him so much in fact...that I was starting to like him? Like, a lot. Like, A LOT, a lot. Too much. Way too much. I don't remember what I was thinking when I realized, 

"Holy shit. I like Tarik O."

It wasn't like he was cute or anything, but yet I was still physically attracted to him for some reason. It wasn't like he was the nicest person either, yet I still wanted him to like me. Oh boy, here we go again. I remember telling Alexa, and her being appalled.

"I know!" I said, "I hate myself for it too! You think I wanted this??!"

But I wanted him. Like, really bad. I didn't want to want him, it just sort of happened. He was the love of my life's cousin. I mean, how morally fucked up was that? What kind of "sweet home Alabama" boundaries were we pushing here? It felt like psychological warfare. Not like I needed any more of that at the time either.

I sort of knew I was doomed from the moment I laid eyes on him. It was a thanksgiving party for our church, and my mom's new friend had a son. Jacob. It was like meeting the boy version of me. He had dark brown hair, and light blue eyes. I thought he was very cute. He was a little feminine, but I didn't care. I liked him instantly. And we started texting, just friendly at first. But I had told all of my church friends that I really liked him. And once again, I felt like I had met someone I could move on from Haris with.

From then on, both Jacob and Haris were my main crushes. Two different boys, two different religions and backgrounds. And I felt torn. Both between the boys, and their respective religions. Christian and Muslim. Both are very devoted to each. I wish I had that luxury. I had always felt guilty for not being solid in one religion, and for caring more about the boys themselves than what religion they belonged to. I wish I was more cemented in one religion, and I wish it influenced my choices. Because then it would have been easier to decide, and probably less painful. I had sort of always let my romantic interests control the direction of my life, it was a byproduct of my trauma, I guess. In November I wrestled even more with the debate about whether I wanted to be Muslim or Christian. There were good things about both. I suppose I was thinking kind of selfishly though, Eventually I was pretty settled on the idea of being Muslim. Now, I know what you're thinking. No, it was NOT because of Haris. The reasons were personal, thank you. Although I had come to this conclusion, I knew I still had a lot of educating myself to do. And Anesa was a big help along the journey. 

In December I had fallen even more in love with Jacob. I suppose "deep like" is better wording for it, not love. And I was still waiting for a miracle with Haris, when something happened.

I'm sitting down in the basement; I can hear my parents arguing. My sister comes downstairs crying. She tells me she's scared they're going to get divorced. All of a sudden, I'm hit by a wave of deja vu. Sure enough, my parents called me upstairs. They sit me down, and tell me again that they're going to get divorced. My face is blank, I have no reaction. I honestly don't even care at this point. We've done this before, and nothing's come of it. Although this time I'm hoping, praying that it's actually true. My mom needs to get away from my dad. Needless to say, my holiday spirit is crushed. And to add salt to the wound, I'm feeling hopeless regarding Haris again. 

Then I started to like Jacob even more. I really wanted to date him. But, I also realized that would mean I'd have to stick with being Christian. I wasn't ready to move on from Islam, or from Haris. So I was stuck in this purgatory of debate and indecision. Christmas rolled around, then new years. My friends from church had a new year's party/sleepover and I went. I wasn't feeling too great, so I layed down and texted Jacob's cousin. She basically told me that Jacob wasn't looking for a relationship. Maybe when he was 16. It made sense, it was reasonable. But it also made me realize that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. He wasn't ready, I was. I really wanted a boyfriend. He also said that if he did want a girlfriend, he would consider me.

That's it? Consider??

Although it upset me, I understood. I knew what I wanted, and he didn't. No big deal. But I still lied about being sick, left the sleepover early, and cried. There was another one of my crushes, squashed. Or so I thought. 

I hate January/February. It's always the worst time of the year for me. This year was no different. Where to begin?

I think it started in January, when I was told in order to fix my scoliosis I would need surgery. That led to many future arguments with my parents about whether to go through with it or not. I suppose the rest of January was pretty uneventful. Then it was February, when everything always seems to go wrong. 

At this point I was very sure I wanted to be Muslim. Ramadan was quickly approaching, and I was excited. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was so excited to share the news of me deciding to revert to Islam, I posted on my story.

"If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask me."

I don't know how it happened, but somehow my dad saw the story that same night. February 4th. I'll never forget. I don't really want to talk about what he said. Let's just say the words, "stupid" and "terrorist" were repeated quite a lot. I doubt that I got any sleep that night. I just remember how much I missed Anesa. But she had no social media so I couldn't contact her. I just cried and waited for the next day at school.

I think that was the first time in a long time I genuinely felt like dying. I just wanted it to all be over, and I couldn't see how my life moving forward could be anything but miserable. It hurt so bad that I just wanted to be gone. I really felt like giving up. The next day at school, I somehow managed to pull myself together and told Anesa everything that happened. That day I was so terrified to go home. I begged and prayed for Allah to do something that might drag out the school day. And surprisingly, my prayers were answered. Our school went on lockdown, and we had to stay about 30 minutes after the bell. It wasn't that long, but I was still grateful. And I took it was a sign that I was going to be okay.