the aftermath of september

Perhaps some would label it as trauma, but I am hesitant to accept that notion. I refuse to acknowledge that I allowed someone to inflict such damage upon me. It might have been less surprising if I had been the cause, but to allow another person to invade my being, coursing through my veins, intertwining with every fiber of my being, and then to witness them shatter everything from within—it feels foolish, even naive.

There is nothing I desire more than to proclaim that this phase has passed. To reassure myself with the timeless adage, "This too shall pass." Yet, I find myself questioning its validity. Will it truly fade away? This question haunts me daily. I wish I could aptly articulate the sensation, but it defies simple description. It is not a burden that I carry, like a lost traveler weighed down by an immense suitcase, desperately searching for the right train. No, it is more akin to being that traveler at the station, with a modest carry-on, prepared to embark on my journey. Yet, somehow, the train's regulations forbid small bags from boarding. Bizarre, isn't it? That's precisely how it feels. I now find myself waiting at the station, yearning for a compassionate conductor who will grant me passage, while stubbornly clutching onto my small bag. As fanciful as this may sound, I assure you it is tragically true. It permeates every action and influences every decision, as if I am a marionette, manipulated by an unseen puppeteer.

"It is by Allah's mercy that you are gentle to them; and had you been harsh and hardhearted, surely they would have scattered from around you. So excuse them, and plead for forgiveness for them, and consult them in the affairs, and once you are resolved, put your trust in Allah. Indeed, Allah loves those who trust in Him." (Quran 3:159) I strive to hold steadfast to these words, but I must admit that some days are arduous. Some days, I manage to follow them, while on others, I choose not to.