Nepenthe

I have a collection of things that I wanted to write about but I keep putting them off until I have some spare time, but when I do, words just don't flow out of my fingers anymore. Then I figured that writing needs emotions (although it's a known fact to everybody else), that's why when we read things that are written with emotions, you kind of get the same feeling as the writer. And as I recall past events that happened to me recently, I realise that they don't really matter much now that it has passed. Is this why people say, time heals?

But they do still matter, just not with that much emotions. Maybe the wound has healed, but the scar is still there. The pain has subsided but it leaves an unbearable numbness. I remember when I decided to get away from all social media, mainly facebook, instagram and tumblr, just so that I can focus more on my uni work. But it doesn't seem to really work, and I've been killing time by doing old stuff that I should have never done. Quoting IHAB, those who kill time kills themselves, and that's exactly what's happening to me. I'm killing myself. What wounded me was myself. Fluctuations happen, physically and emotionally. My body temperature as well as my mood and my iman goes up and down crazier than a roller coaster. I waste second chances, I ruin new opportunities, I go back to the hellhole. I'm hurt and broken.

Dear Allah Al-Jabbar,
Fix me where I'm broken. Heal me where I'm hurt.

8-9 Oktober. Daurah simulasi kehidupan seorang manusia. When asked why they came to the program, most of them said, they lost something. Darnah specifically said she lost herself. Too long of a semester break had broken them and they came here to mend it.

This was a month after they came back from their break, after a month of usrah, and I thought, haven't I mend anything? It occurred to me, although knowing this little fact for quite a long time, that you can't pour into the cups if your pot is empty. You can't rule a kingdom if you can't function properly.

You can't mend someone's heart if yours is broken and not taken care of. And that breaks me even more.

As soon as the door had closed, I patted Hayley's (bukan nama sebenar) thigh.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Silence.

"No, please don't cry." I said.

But I defied my own words and burst into tears. I tried to numb my mind and feelings. I tried not to think. But I couldn't. Tears flowed down my cheeks, and I heard another sob next to me. Hayley.

We both cried. I stared at the ticking clock as tears streamed down my face, but I couldn't count how many minutes we sat there sobbing. When we calmed down a little, I layed down and closed my eyes, still trying to not think about anything. Still trying not to let demons whisper words and assumptions to my ears.

A moment passed, and then I lost it.

Millions of intense thoughts came shooting into my head. I started to cry so hard. I felt anxious. Then my chest felt so constricted. My breathing got so difficult. I felt like ripping my chest out because I couldn't breathe well. I felt like dying. Little coughs. Then I brought myself up in a sitting position so it wouldn't get worse.

Then Hayley came behind my back and patted my chest. Just like how Rasulullah ran his hand down Mus'ab's chest when he was beyond excited listening to Allah's words for the first time. But in my case, I was far from excited. I continued wheezing for God knows how long. And Hayley continued hugging me from behind and patting my chest. She cried too, on my shoulder. I held her hands, trying to somewhat tell her that I was so weak and broken.

"Lailahaillallah, muhammad rasulullah." I tried to recite my syahadah through my wheeze several times, in case I'd die that night. Midnight, it crossed my mind that I could be gone forever.

"Istighfar... Astaghfirullah." Hayley tried to calm me down, still patting my chest from behind. I was still gasping for air. I couldn't feel my feet. I wanted to rip my chest open. I wanted to die. I couldn't control it. I tried so hard to calm down.

After several long breaths forcing myself to calm down, I managed to stop. My hands still in Hayley's. Alhamdulillah for these hands. The aftermath? My head pulak yang throbbing. Oh the pain. It doubled on the inside. Several months ago, when this similar attack happened in Dhuha, it took longer for me to finally breathe properly because I was alone. 3 am, similar case. Not the same, but similar in so many ways.

Hayley folded my fingers and said, "Pergi ambil wudhuk, solat, mintak dekat Allah." So I did. Showered as if to wash the pain off. Then I read the Quran as well. Didn't realize how many surah I finished. Trying to rationalize.

I wasn't sad because she decided to leave us. I was sad because when she left, she closed the door without looking or saying anything. I was sad because I said "Assalamualaikum." but she didn't answer. I was sad because I felt like she didn't even want to be here, around me. I was sad because jalan dnt ni dah hurt her so much. I was sad because she was so torn inside. Dalam tu, mungkin dah lunyai. I didn't mind her leaving to another place. If Allah said she needed to go, then I'd comply. But I was sad because I didn't do anything to help mend that broken heart. I tried, but maybe it wasn't enough, or maybe it was just too late because she already made her decision. I'd be so frustrated if she actually left because of the pain. Cuma kerana rasa, perasaan. I was so scared if she left but she'd still get the same pain elsewhere.

Then I realized, I was also sad because of the anxiety. Feeling down because you did something wrong. Fearing stuff that might happen. The fear and the anxiety are living inside me, and I don't know how to get rid of it — except for being in tarbiah.

Anyways, that's a different story. As for you, I hope things get better for you. I hope you rise back up higher than you ever were. I hope you'll find what you're looking for. And I'm sorry I didn't know how to reciprocate the love you gave me.

If this is farewell, please know that I'll always love you the same, near or far, lillahi ta'ala.

It's now 3 am, again. Good night. Let go.

I kind of just want to update on the email my lecturer sent me. Turns out he just wanted me to submit all the assignments so he can help me pass the unit. What a kind soul. He even offered me an hour to discuss the lecture materials. So yeah, I have an hour of one-on-one tutorial with the professor next Monday.

And today I suddenly feel a strong push behind me making me want to do my assignments well and now. I also feel like I'm not gonna fail this semester. This makes me realise how some things weirdly become better by just talking to someone, no matter you know them or not. Memories of recent events also flashed in my mind, making me agree more to my conclusion. My anak usrah was telling me the other night how she couldn't bring herself up for qiam. That night we kinda talked about it a bit, I offered help but she said she wanted to do it on her own. Next morning, she texted me saying she did. I didn't do anything, only a quiet prayer but the rest was Allah's doing.

So this is a message to my future self: whenever feeling down, just talk to someone. It'll get better.

This is FRHN feeling motivated.

It was almost 1 in the a.m. when I was walking home, body quite shaking because I was too hungry. I did eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner but I seem to have lost control of my appetite. Ate some crackers and now I'm dedicating several minutes to write before I continue finishing my lab report that was due two days ago.

Talk about losing control, I have also lost the control to my sleep. I wanted to stay up doing work but I just can't control when my eyelids close. My appetite has gone huge. My sleep drive has gone huge. What is happening to me? I do realise that those are some of the little signs of depression. I don't know, I just haven't felt really empty yet like I was last time. Do you know if depression is coming or does it just happen?

I received an email from my professor, the same professor that told me to pull up my socks last semester, that he wanted to see me tomorrow regarding my long-due report. I'm so scared. No, not scared of him. But I'm scared that I have to converse to a stranger and I'm scared knowing the fact that I might have to open up to someone I don't know. I guess I'm still living in my tiny bubble. And I don't like it being poked. You know how people say introverts can be extroverts if they want to. Well, I try sometimes… but I fail. It wasn't fun.

I haven't replied to his email. I'm not planning to see him. I'm forcing myself to stay awake to finish this goddamn report and submit it to him tomorrow before he knows it. Wish me well.

This is FRHN, clueless as ever.