Un-sandpapered Edges

September 2017

The problem I have now:

I want to keep things truthful, raw.

Also, I want to keep my private life, as private as a person who loves sharing can.

I’m learning trying flying falling and all that. 
The truth, sans the gory married people details:

Everyone tells you before you get married that marriage isn’t easy. But they don’t tell you WHY it isn’t easy. No one tells you what kind of challenges you’ll face.

They don’t tell you that your spouse isn’t going to do every single thing you want them to do every single day for the rest of your li- what’s that? They’re not supposed to do that? That’s not a thing? That’s obvious? Oh. Sorry. Never mind. Scratch that people, apparently your spouse is supposed to challenge you sometimes and it’s boring if they don’t. Got it.

They don’t tell you that you’ll want to spend time apart and how neither of you will know how much time is the right amount of time to spend apart.

They don’t tell you that they make you insufferably angry or sad and how deeply you can feel your love for them through those things.

They don’t tell you that your body is no longer just YOUR body. They don’t tell you that your spouse is your resting place. That your spouse is the place you’re safe from the storm that is the world.


“They are the coolness of your eyes”

We never scream at each other, or swear at each other, and that is my favourite thing about us: the respect. And whenever my voice raises too many octaves and my face heats up and I throw a tantrum…

I tell him it’s shaytaan (satan) and that shaytaan doesn’t want us to be married and in love and happy. And my husband gives me the smallest smile and takes my hand, I feel forgiveness in his touch.

They don’t tell you that your love language has everything to do with the way you love and the way you don’t love. They don’t tell you that if you aren’t loved in the right way you don’t feel loved at all.

Thank god we’re both physically affectionate people. Maybe the most annoying thing about me – that annoys me, not anyone else – is even when I’m angry upset distraught, I still want to be held. I never say no to his strong arms.

Every argument ends with an “I’m sorry”

I don’t even have any pride to swallow.

I just want to be okay as soon as possible

To fix the mistake immediately

Doesn’t matter whose mistake it is

We’re inseparable [insha’Allah]


Just before September 2017

 This year I learnt a new meaning to the word “petty” I transformed into an old Indian aunty. Well, we both did.

My best friend (Her name is Rafeeqah. I call her Fieka) –

To say that we drifted apart after I got married is a gross understatement. We seemed to be on opposite ends of an ocean of words we suddenly couldn’t say to each other. The distance felt awkward and wrong and …lonely. There was constant underlying thought that things would work out but I missed her and she was missing out on things that I wanted to share with her and I was missing out on things she might have wanted to share with me. we thought…that we both just needed time to adjust

But there was no time to adjust. I had met and married my husband in just over a month. In that month, she and I were closer than ever

I must point out at some point that the reason Fieka and I got along the way we did was not only because we just clicked but also because we had the same kind of strict parents. So when it was announced that just before my wedding that she would be sleeping at my house –We were overjoyed

And this sleepover was exactly what I had been pining over these last eight months of passive-aggressive arguing. What happened? How did it happen? When did I become so stubborn? When did she become so stubborn??

Why was it so difficult to talk to this girl who knew (literally) everything about me? but it’s not like we didn’t try.

Third times the charm though, we met up and

it immediately felt like a mistake.

Until we both admitted our mistakes.

There were tears. A lot of them rolled down my face without my permission. But it felt good to cry with her. Cathartic almost.


She called me names and I laughed. She said it felt good to say those things to my face and I laughed again. And in all this I found my friend again. The one who was more family to me than some of my family.


The middle of September 2017

I turned 21


My husband took my hands and told me I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Ps. I took all these pictures and all the pictures of me were taken by my new photographer: Rafeeqah Hamdulay

love you kid.

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Another day to be a writer


I will write about kindness.

I will write about love

I will write about death

I will write about the sun

And the moon

I might write about every individual star

I will write about pain

I will drag knives over your lungs just hard enough to scrape them.

I will take the air from you

I will take your tear- streaked cheeks and tell you

Absolute truths

The ones that have been kept from you

I will write about failure

And what it means to try again. Selfishly.

I will write about the things you forgot

Things that brought you joy

Do you remember joy?

The real kind

I will write about cold fingers

Yours and his

I will write about silk and satin and

how your skin

wasn’t placed on your body

to please anyone on this earth.

I will write about regret

How bitter it tastes at the back of your throat

I will write about the lies you told

The excuses you made

The promises you broke without blinking

I will write about nature

And how we’re are being lied to:

nature is unnatural

I will write about lips

The kinds of kisses you should be receiving

I will write about anger

Steel wool on the ends of your lashes

Scratchy eyes

Red vision

Burning skin

I will write about calamity

And how we know nothing of it at all.

I will write about consistency

I will write about persistency

I will write about specificity

I will make you uncomfortable

Sweaty

Guilty

I will write about tranquility

And how to achieve it

I will write about being enough being happy being secure

being unapologetic in those things

 

 

 

 

 

21 hours before the hurricane she wrote 

You’re this, 

enigmatic piece of art that sunk into my skin and hung itself along my veins. 

I can feel you taking pieces of me, inches of my heart and slices of my soul and dipping them in your sincerity. I’m drowning in your clarity. 
In your kiss I taste a galaxy of stars. I’m blinded by you. I’m overwhelmed by you. 
The edges of my skin remember your name your scent your voice your touch.