Lines.

Parallel. Straight. Paperthin and perpendicular, 90 degrees of perfect; marking the spaces where our fingers used to twine together until the beginnings are indiscernible from ends and disappear into the slow half-moon of your smile. Thick, bold strokes of watercolor, imparting stains of dyes the hue of sunsets and the color of eyes; and where the tears fall the lines blur and leave hazy streaks that cloud over and wash quietly out.

Crooked. Curved. Overlapping spirals, sharp angles and simple fragments, careful chaos, transversals. Smooth diagonals across the length of a doorway and the effortless arch of a swan’s pale neck. Dusted lead, fuzzy sketches of blended shadows; the tiny precision of ideas imprisoned inside the cramped lines we scribble and call “words”. Jagged emotions scrawled in the form of a poem with curled edges; clean contours of a city, the tracery of a stained-glass window. Lines on a lavender wrist, mapped out in the natural creases of your hand.

Then there are the lines we can’t see, the ones we draw when we face right and wrong and right and left and the lines that separate the mind and the heart. There are the undefined lines between rhetorical questions and reality, between good and evil, between free will and destiny; the thin one between love and hate, the one between the person you pretend to be and person you are. The pen is poised and ready in our hands and we’re drawing mazes to escape and routes to follow, drawing walls to shut others out and drawing boundaries that may never be crossed. But we’re also finding release within these lines, particularly the ones that lets us know that someone loves us and the ones that tell the world that we are not devoid of emotion after all. We’re circles and corners of squares, ellipses and the points of stars. We’re boundaries on a map and words in a story. We’re lines in the endless sweep of infinity.

The more I try to forget my past the more people feel the need to remind me of it.

We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. We’ve all sinned and we all continue to sin. The only difference is whether you repent or not. Alhamdulilah I was one of the lucky people who was guided by Allah swt. Without His guidance, I would still be the very same person you’re criticizing me about today.

If I am able to forgive myself and leave my past behind, then you certainly can too. 

Just hold on and think for a while

I'm just being real. that’s what you all wanted and i’m here to be honest.

nothing more, nothing less. just answering your questions and being the best person i can be, for myself. some things aren’t meant to be and some things aren’t meant to be changed. that’s life, that’s reality. you all have to understand, we don’t act out our own movie perfectly. things happen because we let it happen - we’re too late to prevent it. so next time you wanted the situation to be the way you want, make sure you know exactly what’s going on and you’re handling it the right way. not lying to the person you’re trying to fix things with, or denying everything that once was.

you might not see it, but it hurts more than just you... 

YOU are ENOUGH

“You are enough, just as you are.  Each emotion you feel, everything in your life, everything you do or do not do…where you are and who you are right now is enough.  It is perfect. you are perfect enough”

You are enough. there is nothing wrong with wanting more in this life but please stop comparing yourself to others, just remember who you are, and the beautiful person inside you. Stop that negative self talk, you are beautiful, and you are enough.

And because you are perfectly enough, please Smile, it makes a world of difference. Dance, who knows when you won’t be able to? Cry, holding those emotions inside is bad for you. Kiss, it is one of the most wonderful things in this world. Laugh, what is the point in hiding happiness? Frown, why not let them know you are unhappy? Apologize, you don’t want to lose friends. Hug, there is no better feeling than being wrapped up close to someone you love. Live because life is everything.

Here’s a story;

Once upon a time, you were born.

[insert life story here]

and then you died.

What will your life story be? Will it be empty, filled with someone else’s story? Or will it be filled with adventure; doing, being, living, breathing, seeing, feeling, loving, appreciating, and most importantly; serving Allah as He is meant to be served?

What will it be?

I believe in art...

I believe in the power of music. Music has the power to move people; the power to bring tears to your eyes, joy to your heart and give you a whole new lens through which to view the world and your life.

I believe in the beauty of dance. Dance is a beautiful way to tell a story. The story is in the movement of her hips and the placement of his hands; the bend of his back and point of her toes.

I believe in the healing that happens through visual art. I can see the pain released through the fingertips of the painter; the joy expressed in the eyes of the portrait, the courage of the bold charcoal statement.

I believe in art. I believe in the power, beauty and healing that happens through every medium, every story and every artist. I believe in creation. I believe in the feeling that comes over you when you have completed a masterpiece. I believe in the way that every piece of art is beautiful. I believe in the fact that art can’t be graded or judged. I believe in the way that art equalizes. The way that every product is viewed separate from it’s creator and at the same time, in every way, the creator is in it.

Like art itself, it is simple, it is complicated, and it is beautiful. “I believe in art”.

Open your eyes..

And you’ll see a girl who is broken. A girl who has lost hope in a lot of things because of the way she is treated. On the outside she will seem happy and pleased with life. That, I’m afraid, is only a mask. A mask she created so that no one would ever see what is really going on inside. She doesn’t want to burden people with her drama and troubles so she pushes it aside or to the back of her mind, hoping no one will ever see them. Unfortunately it shows sometimes and now ever more so. She needs help and it appears no on actually cares enough to see what is truly wrong unless they witness a part of that hidden truth. They might see it in some of her subtle everyday actions, if only they’d open their eyes….