[dead book, like my motivation, i suck at writing, go find someone else]

Tr-Tr-Trouble

When it rains, look for rainbows, when it’s dark, look for stars. - Hayya Ali

When I was little, stars were only just stars.

Now that I have matured, stars are freckles even in the thick blanketed sky, shining light in the hearts of millions, the souls of many and belief in most. Belief of the existence of God, and his Eternal Grace with which we were blessed everyday with. With which we are taking for granted with every piece of our life that slowly slips by. Which we deem to be wrong and something that came out of nothing.

I remember being naïve and young, wondering whatever life threw at me would be overcome easily, that wasn’t the case of course. God had other plans for me. I had inquired tough times as a kid in the streets.

I was always very clueless about things when it was my turn to suffer. Sometimes I would use my conscience, the tiny ounce that I had back then, and it still won’t be enough to get over it. I was very rapaciously looking for something to hoard in my tiny mind, anything to distract me from my previous situation that had worsened over time.

I tried very hard to be wise in my situations, but the wisest things I knew was probably not to talk to strangers, but I couldn’t understand it, as the strangers in my home were the ones I mostly came in contact with, and the ones I talked to.

I hadn’t knit any bonds that were worth going back to. The one that I did; always makes me test my patience, God.  At times, the devil had put a cast on my eyes which made it unable to see, think and comprehend what my God was asking me to do.

Sometimes I felt like ripping apart my skin and searching for a reason for why I felt this empty. Maybe my veins were tangled, or something is lodged in my ribcage. Because it felt like something inside of me was broken or missing. I knew what it was, not at that age, but I learnt as I grew.

Many people would think at the age of five, a child is supposed to be creative and building blocks with Lego pieces.

My childhood wasn’t so charming. I remember being in preschool and writing on walls, shouting obscenities at every kid that offered to play. I had a permanent frown on my baby face that fooled any passer-by.

Books were a measly slip that collided with the friction at home. I never concentrated or believed to grow up and have an education. Like any child who has been through a harrowing experience, I was always left screaming on the inside from the repeated bouts of molestation I’d experienced. I wanted to reach out and purge everything that had been locked inside my spirit for all these years, all the ugliness and all the shame.

Everyone had thought of me as a diamond, tough, strong, unbreakable.

It takes a diamond to know a diamond. Only a diamond can be scratched and broken by a fellow one.

I had deemed to accept that diamonds were extinct, I was never splintered all the way to the end and I had never realized my lines of strengths and weaknesses.

The thing about diamonds was that no one knew them. Their spirituality and what they had to offer. People only thought of them as pearl décor or necklaces that were engraved with them.

They were thought as perfect, admired for their patina, their beauty, but no one knew anything about them.

However, I wasn’t all that bad in my childhood either. The ounce of innocence I had left that wasn’t robbed off me was something that provided me the courage to accept Islam as a religion. Of course, I never fully understood it at the age, but I got the mere picture. I had looked further into the subject of religion as of whatever was provided to me. I accepted it with all the courage I could muster up with my petite thinking ability and small thinking.