Skip to main content

The Restless Night

Last night, sleep eluded me.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw angry faces. Their mouths moved, but I couldn’t understand the words—only the rage, the contempt, the dismissal. The sounds were worse. Screams. Accusations. They filled my head, growing louder, twisting into something monstrous.

I turned on my side, then the other, pulling the blanket over me, then kicking it off. The air felt too thick, the silence too heavy. My mind was racing, spiraling into memories I wanted to forget but couldn’t.

I reached for my phone. The screen glowed in the darkness. 2:47 AM.

Too late to text anyone. Too early for morning peace.

I opened YouTube and searched for Surah As-Saffat. I pressed play, letting the recitation fill the empty spaces around me. The voice was soothing, each word washing over me like a tide pulling me away from my thoughts. I lowered the volume to a whisper, just enough to keep the darkness at bay.

And then I did something I hadn’t done before.

I whispered their names.

One by one, I said them out loud. The names of the people who had done me wrong. The ones who had hurt me, dismissed me, broken pieces of me without a second thought. With each name, I tensed my muscles—my fists, my shoulders, my stomach. I held the tension, letting the weight of their presence press against me. And then, I released it.

One name. Hold. Release.

Another name. Hold. Release.

Again and again, until I felt the tightness unravel, until the burden I had been carrying felt just a little lighter.

By the time I reached the last name, I felt different. Not healed. Not whole. But relieved.

Lighter.

My body relaxed into the mattress, my breathing slowed, and for the first time that night, I felt sleep creeping in. The faces faded. The sounds dulled.

And I drifted into sleep.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Breaking Point

  Okay. It’s broken. The normal spell is shattered, and everything is chaos again. It happened today—sudden, sharp, like a switch flipping without warning. One moment, I was holding it together. The next, I wasn’t. Words were spoken, actions followed, and just like that, I was unraveling. I tried to contain it. Swallow it down. But the weight of it pressed against my ribs, lodged in my throat like something jagged and unrelenting. I was at a friend’s room for Iftar, surrounded by people, playing my part. For the most part, it felt as normal as things could get for me. But then it happened. Someone said something—offhand, derisive, laced with accusation. They called me nagging when all I had done was confirm something that involved them. A small fracture. I told myself to ignore it. But then came the second blow. I asked the same friend to bring something. Something simple. They refused. I thought they were joking because why wouldn’t they be? It wasn’t as if I had asked them to bri...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Glitch In Existence

  If I look back and trace the timeline of my life, I can say with certainty that something went terribly wrong when I was 14. That’s when I first started noticing the symptoms—not fully formed, not yet consuming, but present. Back then, it wasn’t a storm, just a whisper in the wind, a quiet sense that something was… off. At first, it was subtle. The way I felt things too deeply, or sometimes not at all. The way I could be laughing one moment and feel hollow the next, as if the world had drained of all color. The way certain words or actions from others stung me in ways I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know what it was, only that my emotions felt like a foreign language no one had taught me how to speak. But as I interacted with the world, as I endured the things that shaped me, the disorder began to take form. It solidified, like wet cement hardening around my mind, until it became impossible to separate myself from it. Now, I’m about to turn 30. Sixteen years have passed since the fi...
Post a Comment
Read more

A New Beginning

Today, after a long, long time, I felt something unfamiliar—hope. It wasn’t overwhelming or blinding. It didn’t flood me like a revelation. It was quiet, fragile, like the first hint of light before dawn. A whisper rather than a roar. But it was there.  For the first time in what felt like ages, I want to try again. I’ve done this before—started over, rebuilt myself from the wreckage, only to collapse again. But today, something feels different. There’s a shift, a new kind of energy stirring inside me. I am taking baby steps into a world where I am not a burden. Where my presence doesn’t force the people I love to walk on eggshells. Where I don’t have to shrink myself to make room for their comfort. At the end of the day, I feel determined. Not healed. Not whole. But ready. I have a vision now—a clearer one. I know what matters and what doesn’t. What deserves my energy and what I can let go of. I refuse to let my impulses dictate my story. I refuse to give in to the temptation of s...
Post a Comment
Read more