Short story about a beautiful stranger:
She is not who she used to be. Is it because she is tired of letting in. Change is good they say, but that is not the case for her. She is the opposite of what change is supposed to be. Change should make one happy not angry and emotional roller coaster. She is not known for who she is, but she is known for who people want her to be. And people still question about why she wants to change. She is lost in her own shadow.
Drowning in her own thoughts.
She is fighting off the idea of her failing. She seems happy every waken day. Deep down she is suffering.
She is suffering from wanting to not want. She is suffering from proving herself to those that could careless about her.
She gets lost in her thoughts talking her way out of the things that she actually deserve. When an opportunity knocks on the door she will do whatever it takes to not bring it into her life.
Smiles were made to share, but she only smiles to get by…
They are people that walked into her life. And they left her broken. Making her believe that her life will never get better without them in it.
Little did she know that all she needed was herself to do better in life. And little do they know that when she forgives, she never forgets.
She is starting to believe that she’s okay when all she is now is broken.
There is no such thing as perfection.
She hurts herself as she collects the pieces of her heart.
She seems like she’s full of life.
She said: “People will see exactly what you want them to see in you, but in the end the only person worth knowing you is yourself.”
I wish to hold your hand one more time. I wish to brush your hair one more time. Or maybe wash your face. I know you wouldn’t let me wash your face because I remember how you loved to do wudu two hours before fajr prayer. Or how you’d ask me every other hour if it’s time to pray yet.
One can only wish.
I wish to remind you my name before eating breakfast. I miss how you’d refuse to eat before mother.
I miss how you used to ask about my morning. And just by looking at my face, you’d know if anything is up with me.
I’m sorry that I didn’t spend a lot of time with you. I was too busy thinking that we’d have all the time of the world and you’d get better. I thought we’d make up for all the years.
I’m mad at myself that I don’t have stories about you. The only thing I can clean and maybe wash now is your shoes.
As I look at the scuff marks on your shoes. I wonder how the world treated you. If it was good to you.
May God have mercy on you.
I hope it’s not happening all over again.
I walked into his room today, but today I couldn’t stand myself. We used to laugh, hug, massage his hands and brush his hair with my fingers. And he’d ask about my day and I’d tell him in detail; from Fajr (dawn) prayer to sunset.
Today I asked him how he’s doing and his response was something like “you know, things changed. I’m not doing so good. God knows best.”
He enjoy telling us stories. And giving us orders. Even though he can’t move around much, he’d tell us to do things. Read a book, or get twenty-one questioned by him for not doing what you’re supposed to.
Today, he let me talk about my life, as if I’m introducing myself to him. He was smiling, but I can see in his eyes that he cannot remember me. So he asked about his daughters and the smart man he is, he asked me to name them one by one so he can find out which one of his daughters I am.
Allah is the best of planner.
I know I’m not who I was a year ago. I used to complain and I couldn’t stand myself for everything that was happening. I realized that this time it is a gift. Allah blessed me with the ability to cope.
I know I will break here and there, but it is not how it used to me. He trust me more than ever. He may not remember me, but he knows my smile, tight hugs, and my long boring stories.
Be grateful for the people in your life.
Be grateful and God will increase it for you.