Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 22 - The Benching of Malik Massacre and Magical Masjids

I know, I know. Don't yell at meh D:

"Halal love is the best kind of love, because that's when you have Allah by your side." -- Farah

Chapter 22

The Benching of Malik Massacre and Magical Masjids

☼ Maysa Malik ☼

            As a veil of sleep lifts from my subconscious mind, I stretch happily in my bed, relishing the feel of my cramped muscles being deliciously stretched. I stare up at the white planes of my ceiling, at the random holes in it from the times Zak and I shot darts up there. A wide smile is spread on my face; I stretch again, slightly turning my body.

            I seem to be horrible at estimating distances, because instead of feeling more of my nice, comfortable bed, I feel a quick rush of air and then my body makes impact with the floor. “Ow.” I whimper.

            I get up quickly, only to get a head rush from the heavy weight of my thick hair. Clutching my nose, I stumble over to the bathroom. I tilt my head as I scrutinize my appearance. Sometimes I really wish I was pretty, the kind of girl that could rock a room.

            As I go about my morning routine, I feel another question set into my thoughts. Is Adam even in my league? You know how everyone says that the good boys are like rare gems, so hold onto them tightly? Well…do I even deserve him? A boy like Adam…he could make a girl the happiest person on Earth. He deserves a girl who has a strong iman, something I struggle to keep some days. He deserves a girl who is beautiful, both inside and out.

            My heart saddens at the thought of him with another girl. Shut up, Maysa. Listen to yourself. You’re sixteen. It’s probably just a crush, a mere infatuation.

            Yeah, but if it’s just infatuation, why am I just able to fully admit it to myself now?

            Allah, please help me. I’m in over my head. With this thought in my mind, I head back to my room to pray Fajr and read some Quran. As I sit with my favorite copy of the Quran in my hands after I pray, I whisper a prayer to Allah requesting his guidance.

            Then, I begin to think. There’s so much in life that I’m not sure about. I have so many blessings in my life – we all do, but we’re so caught up thinking about what we don’t have that we lose sight of the big picture.

Yes, my brother shattered the close relationship we had. Yes, I know in my heart that he’s not doing the right thing. Yes, I have to see the desperation and sadness on my parents’ face every time I come home. And at school, I feel like there are so many obstacles that I have to face, so many tests I have to ace, just to keep my iman strong.

But at the end of the day, I have parents I can confide in. I have an older brother who still cares for me. I have a little sister that I can help raise. I have amazing friends. And, I have the friendship of a boy who is the kind of guy every girl wishes for in her life.

I’m staring off into the distance, at the numerous framed photos on the wall in front of me. When I snap out of my thoughts, I blink and look down at the pages of wisdom bound together by a protective cover. Closing my eyes, I open it to a random page.

When I open my eyes again, the first thing I register is the name of the Surah I have turned to – Surah Ibrahim. The number twelve paints itself into my mind – the verse that catches my eye first.