Insides

6. I'm a loner but I still have Allah

I’ll be completely honest when I say that I’ve always been a loner.

It is true, I never knew it.
But I spent my whole childhood alone.
With no one.
Just me and “SpongeBob Square pants”.
I never like games I was never good at it.

Till date I hate running, and all things people consider fun.
So I’ve always lived with this state of mind.
And my grandma always said I was depressed.
I never understood what she meant thinking she meant lack of sunshine.

My personality was just that of a loner.
My thoughts were always just that of a loner.
I’ve always been in death’s orbit.
My mother called me morbid.

I just loved the thought of people dying.
I watch sad movies for fun.

I’ve always been obsessive.

I’m an obsessive person.

I obsess over cartoons and music.

I obsess over the things that make me happy.

I obsess over happy times.

I obsess over my best friend.

I obsess of my music.

I obsess over colours.

I obsess over poems of death.

I obsess over books of death.

I obsess over anything that may seem negative to you.

That makes me happy.

I love my own company.
I love my destructive thoughts.
My thoughts calm me while it might freak your company.
My dreams are as casual as my thoughts.

I need them.
They inspire me.
Although I always die at the end or kill someone in them.
They inspire me.

They inspire me.
The constant reminder of death is sunnah.
The reminder that everything we experience in life is short lived inspires me.

It inspires me to keep breathing.
Sometimes I feel like being sarcastic and breathe aloud.
As if scream out to the world mocking it.
I am still breathing.

I have faith in Allah.
He has a plan.
A plan better then my plan.
Better then what anybody could have planed for me.

I trust him with my life.
After all he is the one who gave me life.
His plan is the best plan.
Allah has the greatest of  plans.

My dreams inspire me.
My thoughts inspire me.
My conscious inspires me.

It challenges me to make all my negatives a positive.
To find the love of my obsessive.

To obsess over the things that makes me happy.
To chase my happiness.
Or create happiness out of it.

I have a nick for comforting myself.
I have a nick for it.
If I can’t be happy for myself.

Who else will be happy for me?

How will I make other people happy?

I choose to be my own friend.
I choose to be a friend to my sadness, my anger, my obsession and my best friend.

What and how does any of this bother me?

It bothers me because I’ve been labelled.
I’ve been labelled as depressed and lonely for chasing what makes me happy.

I love everything about me.
All of it.
I am happy.
But no one ever believes me.

Why is that?

Why?

What about me is so bad that my thoughts and my dreams makes people worried and scared?

When all want to do is be happy?

To them my happiness doesn’t exist.
Unless I do the things that I don’t like.
Hence leaving me pretending to be happy for their like.

No. I say no, I will do want I want to do.
Not what makes them happy.
I will be happy with the grace of Allah.
With the help of Allah.
I started with him and I’ll end with him.