Covered by blood and ashes, we come back from under the rubble to fight the battle of life where tranquility and peace are our only purpose. However, the world persists in denying us the least bit of rest.
Do you ever felt nostalgic for your good old days, Islam? Like before this began, when you buzzed with happy talk, walked with happy feet, and loved with a happy family and friends obsessed with possibilities, challenges, and adventures. The scares, the dares, and the comebacks; the glories, the miracles, and the triumphs.
At the bottom of our hearts lies our former life, one that was dynamic, exuberant, and prosperous. Tough though it was, we still revered and honoured it. Our life is literally paradoxical. Meaning the mistakes we made, the anger we held in, the arguments we had, and the frowns we gave others were all happy moments as we look back now. We never hated what we adored, but we adore what we hated long ago.
The fleeting flashbacks of how warm life was just 4 months ago tear my heart into thousands of shreds caused by unbearable cacophony in my head. I can’t seem to process it. Goosebumps persist every time I wake up in an uninhabitable shelter, a ceilingless tent surrounded by hundreds of strangers, without my maternal or paternal uncles, without my grandfather, even without my brother and sister to hold me close and help me put myself together. Even without my little cousin to say “…it’s okay you can pass that exam!” How I can pass it now ?!!!!
This intolerable time shall slip away and these outrageous days shall fade away, too. I don’t want to have memories of how awful life has been. I really want them to vanish, but will we make it out alive, safe or okay? Okay is fine, though. I have witnessed many horrible things and despite it all I am not growing stronger, yet I find myself hanging on waiting for nothing but a moment of calmness.
The pain of loss and heartbreak we are undergoing is literally insufferable, and the effort we put forth to show the world our immeasurable pain is ironically ridiculous. The world of puppets is doing nothing but turning a blind eye, unfortunately.
We are fighting a ferocious battle that the entire villainous world knows nothing about. A battle that is devoid of catchy slogans and loud roars.
We are not a symbol of generosity, heroism or determination. Our battle manifests as the sheerest and purest form of humanity.
Once upon a time, we had cheerful laughter, warm houses, vibrant parties, peace, lovely friends, tranquility, energetic places, and auspicious lives.
I know nothing will be as it was, neither people nor places. We will stay alone trying to find a life from zero.
Once upon a time happiness was in our dictionary.