Closing Pandora's Box

Last year, I was asked by a friend to write on the topic of love for the King’s College Maestro Magazine and so I agreed. Below is my short story that was published.

*****

I had been watching as she came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel that hung from her bosom and curled around her thighs. She walked briskly to her room, her moist, naked feet leaving prints on the wooden floor. She was slightly behind schedule but I knew she wouldn't be late. She never was. It wasn't often we got to do this, with the pressure of second year university and work keeping us occupied. But despite that we made sure to spend some time together, at least once a month. Today was the 14th of February. It was special because it was her birthday. And tonight was going to be perfect.
When she was born her mother had held her in her arms and through her teary eyes exclaimed, “I will give this girl of mine all the love in the world.” It was a shame really, for it left everyone else with none to give. I continued to watch as she gently towel dried her red hair. Using a hair dryer was not an option. Her skin had always been sensitive and during her early years at school she had suffered from seborrhoeic eczema that resulted in greasy yellow coloured scales on her face and scalp. The emollient she used gave off its own unpleasant smell which the young children around her didn't like. They found it repulsive. They found her repulsive. One of the boys in her class had cut her hair with a pair of safety scissors during an art lesson to the amusement of the others. I had watched as she ran home that afternoon with tears of humiliation gushing down her angular face. But they could not wash away the pain she had felt that day.
Next, she put spots of moisturiser on her forehead, nose, cheeks and chin before massaging them in with the tips of her fingers. This was a routine that had not changed since high school and one that always brought a smile to her face. Though she was not beautiful, her supple skin was envied by many of the other girls. She craved for boys to look at her and love her, but their eyes were bought by the rich blonde who covered herself in expensive skin care products. If truth be told, I too stared longingly at the blonde girl. I patiently watched as she applied foundation and changed into her ruched stretch-jersey black dress. It had been a steep acquisition, considering it was paid for by her student loans. She had insisted and there was no way I could change her mind, it was for me she had said, for our special nights together.
She had never been one for makeup and so it took her three frustrating attempts to put on eyeliner. The mascara was relatively easier. Though she normally wore glasses, for special nights such as this she would put on her chocolate coloured lenses. Her deep grey eyes; eyes that had longed to see better days once she started university, were instantaneously transformed. People at high school had spoken of university as a new beginning full of hope, new friendships and new adventures. But the truth of the matter is that high school never ends and nothing changes but the faces, the names and the trends. And as for life, we’ve only got the one. Her luck didn’t change at university either; well not until I met her.
There wasn’t much left for her to do. The table had been set some time ago and I had lit the scented candle just before she entered the shower. The flame danced for us in its unique manner, casting shadows around the dimly lit room. She sprayed herself with her perfume and put on her Revlon super lustrous lipstick Fire and Ice. It was the same one she was wearing the day we had our first kiss. We had been standing in the lunch queue, waiting to order food. I caught her eye in the glass container which had the cakes within and smiled. She later told me that when she returned the smile, it was because she had remembered something her mother had always said to her. That night while we sat and talked, I noticed her beauty for the first time. Her once oddly angular face was now sleek and refined. Her body, once lanky and thin with bones jutting out in different directions was now curvaceous and complete. And her smile, hiding behind it one of the saddest stories I knew, was mesmerising.
She was ready now and I watched as she walked towards me, hunger in her eyes. But as always, this hunger was not the type to be satisfied at the candle lit table. The flowers sat alone as she kissed me. Her lipstick left a mark on the cold surface of the mirror.
“If you can’t love yourself,” her mother had said. “You can’t expect others to love you either.” She had finally found love.

_________________________________

With special thanks to AG and SR for teaching me about colours, makeup and the ways of its application.
Italicised words are taken from the song “High School never ends,” – Bowling for Soup.

Last semester, I had one taught module i.e. one module for which we were lectured. It was the Therapeutics: Protein to patient module, and dealt with drugs^*, their discovery, making, action and other bits and bobs of pharmacology as well concentrating on 5 specific diseases; learning about their discovery, how diagnosis, prognosis and treatment or management has developed over time and what the future holds. An integral part of the module was, in the words of the module organiser, "’Bullshit Detection”. In today’s exponentially expanding technological world, we are constantly bombarded by drug adverts from every direction; creams that will make your wrinkles disappear, pills to make you smile from sunrise to sunset, lotions that’ll make your your hair so thick, you could be mistaken for a yeti, or if you’ve ever taken a peek at your spam / junk mail, pills that’ll grow your third leg by a good 7 and a half inches¹. There are so-called doctors, who have graduated from universities with names that are vaguely familiar to names in Lord of the Rings, handing out leaflets on the street claiming to cure erectile dysfunction, cancer², and anything that’d make even grown men blush. Coupled with the fact many people are just so busy and don’t have the time to investigate the claims made by the multi-million pound advertising companies that are shoving ‘magical-cures’, quoting long words from non-existent research that are nonsense. But we still buy them. We still pay that extra couple of pounds to buy the carrot that contains beta-amyloids³ to combat hair reduction. The bullshit detection part of the course was to enable us to recognise and analyse ‘quacks’, their treatments and bogus forms of health information we are exposed to. One lecture in particular which focused on complimentary medicine was so funny, that each and every student in the lecture theatre was LMAO-ing so hard at the sheer stupidity of how some of these forms of treatments are carried out.⁴ All in all, a lot of the scams mentioned above are ways of stealing money from the uneducated general public, though it is amazing to see how those people who are educated, still make use of such things, but that’s not the point of this post. Below is a slide from a lecture we had on the history of asthma, and I think it puts the point across quite nicely:

While revising some of lectures from that module a few days ago, I got distracted as I always do, and started thinking about something completely unrelated. It all started with homeopathy. Homeopathy⁵ is an alternative treatment, known by many as the sweet little white balls. The lecturer who taught us, was extremely anti-any-type-of-complimentary-medicine and therefore he gave us one side of the argument. To balance the whole thing, we also received a lecture supporting homeopathy. Medicine is an evidence based field in which all drugs are vigorously tested, undergoing clinical trials to determine whether, if any, of the potential benefits are due to the drug itself or placebo⁶. Many sceptics of alternative medicines such as homeopathy argue they work, if they do, by a placebo effect as the ‘active’ constituents are so dilute they could not possibly induce any effects themselves. So while sitting there pretending to revise, I thought to myself about those people / patients who claim to have been cured or gotten better after taking such alternative medicines.

Regardless of your personal belief^**, let us take sides with the sceptics and assume for argument’s sake, that complimentary medicines don’t work. If they don’t work for whatever reason, and people are still getting ‘cured’, without having taken any conventional medication, one can conclude the alternative medicines had a placebo effect. The positive effects must therefore have all been psychological. It was the person’s belief which cured them, the pills were just something to instil that belief. As my train of thought continued to choo-chooo along, I was reminded of a quote from a lovely film a friend of mine forced me to watch (forced because it was a chick flick, and I was sceptical about how good it would be):

Happiness is a state of mind – Love happens.

Come to think of it, I totally agree with the quote. Like the patients above who had such strong faith in the amazing-ness of the sugary white balls that they got better, I think each and everyone’s mental state of mind can play a great impact on the healing of wounds; physical and or emotional. It has been observed by many that those people who are optimistic tend to heal faster, whereas those with a negative state of mind, heal a lot slower and may even get worse spiralling downwards. Patients in wards that have a good support structure as well being full of life, quickly overcome their problems and reclaim their life that they lost to injury and or illness.

Everyone comes across instances in life when they feel hope is lost, life changing events that open the inviting door of depression such trauma and loss. In these situations it can be difficult being positive, because it hurts so much. The injustice of the incident leads to anger and we become trapped thinking, “Why? Why did it have to be this way?”. I’ve been there, so I know what it feels like sitting in the darkness searching desperately for even a speck of light. But I made my way out of the darkness. It all starts with you. The hardest part about the fall is picking yourself up. After that, once you’re on your feet it becomes easier and easier and easier. Believe tomorrow will be a better day, believe you will find happiness and love and laughter and life, and maybe if you believe hard enough, your beliefs will turn to reality.

For the Muslim readers among you, I would like to share a hadith from Muslim in which the Holy Prophet (sa) said that whoever was guilty of spreading pessimism among the people was leading towards their downfall as pessimistic ideas tend to discourage one and halt progress.⁷ So find the butterfly of happiness and share it with everyone around you.

*NB: In the healthcare profession, when someone uses the word drugs it encompasses all medicines and not just those ‘street drugs’ such as cocaine and heroin. Normal medications such as paracetamol and aspirin etc are also drugs.

** I am personally undecided about homeopathy, as I like to conduct my own research before making up my mind, and haven’t really got round to it.

_________________________________

Title: The storm is over now – R Kelly 
¹If you didn’t understand this, then don’t worry. If you’re a guy, you probably got exactly what I meant
²Claiming to be able to cure cancer is against the British law and a punishable act: Click here to read the Cancer Act
³Beta-amyloids are found in plaques in the brain’s of those with Alzheimer’s Disease. If I hadn’t mentioned this, you’d have thought they were good for your hair.
⁴There is a website dedicated to historical remedies used for the treatment of many illnesses. It is good for laughs: http://thequackdoctor.com/
⁵A brief introduction to homeopathy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homeopathy
⁶An introduction to placebo-controlled-studies used to test drugs can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Placebo-controlled_study
⁷Muslim, Part II, vol. 2
Picture 1 of a lecture slide take from my university given notes.
Picture 2 of homeopathic medicine showing container and balls taken from this website: http://www.drallanapolo.com/images/general/homeopathy.jpg

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
When death comes and takes all the bright coins to buy me,
and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes like measle-pox;
when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

“When Death Comes” – Mary Oliver

*****

Then…

There were times when I screamed out to God. It’s ironic isn’t it? When we are happy and have no need whatsoever of calling Him, some of us are inclined to think of His presence as an intrusion. Go to Him then and He would take you in with open arms and make you feel welcome. But going to Him when all help was lost and you’d be faced with a closed door and silence. Such loud and echoing silence, that could drive you mad. All you would hear was your own voice, full of desperation and need being thrown back to you. Was He ever there?

Then something happens, or I hear something, or see a picture, or visit a place and memories flood back like a gushing river. Every single particle of ‘rationality’, ‘logic’ and ‘common sense’ is swept away by tears of grief. Clean and honest tears. Bathing myself in self pity is something I find so disgusting. It makes me cringe to think to think the bubbly Charley I remember, whose happiness was contagious and who was always overflowing with life has now become someone who brings nothing but sorrow. If she were to see me now, what would she think? And that brings me onto my next point.

Promises made with the dead while they held our hand, walked beside us and shared the same air to breathe as us are all well and good. There are many promises I will never forget, promises that I will keep with me forever and  will try my best to fulfil. But there are times when this so called ‘respect for the feelings of the dead’ brings me doubt. Sometimes when people say “is that what Charley would have wanted?” or “Charley wouldn’t have liked you doing such and such,” I wonder whether it is really just them using her name to say a piece of their mind, to vent their frustration at my never-ending sadness, or to have their way. I know it’s wrong of me. Their intentions are pure, they don’t mean it that way. But that momentary flash of desperation, of exhaustion and annoyance in their eyes makes me wonder. I hope I never am guilty of saying it that way to anyone.

At the beginning I used to be so afraid of going all those places Charley and I used to go, the walk through the parks or taking in the view of London from the top of Shirley Hills. But over the last year, I’ve visited the park many times in the depths of the night, and despite a few early incidents it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. Her absence wasn’t any more intense there as it was in other places; it’s not confined to a particular place. Her absence is like the distribution of air, it’s spread everywhere. It’s like that, I feel it while I’m sitting alone on the bus or I feel it when I’m feeling sad and in need of someone to talk to for example. But even that isn’t entirely true. There is one place where I feel it the most. Me. I miss her hugs.

*****

Now…

Tomorrow will be exactly one year since she passed away. ******* Cancer. I was speaking to a friend recently and they said to me, ‘How do you think Charley would feel knowing she was the reason behind your grief? Do you think she would want you to suffer endlessly because of her death?’

That made me think. Yes, I still do miss her, yes I still feel the emptiness from time to time, but it’s time I let it go. It’s time I came out of the shell I have been hiding in, wallowing in my sorrow, and felt the warmth of the sun on my skin, felt the refreshing rain and tried to truly enjoy happiness and all the other wonders of this life. On new year’s I was recovering from a very long day, getting rid of all that exhaustion that I completely forgot about Charley. When I finally realised, finally remembered, it was much more than a fading memory. It would not be right for me to call it a meeting (that’d get me locked up), but it was as if the armour of sorrow which had confined me for so long was removed. So much easier to breathe, so much easier to move. There were no tears, and that I think that is why I could see properly. My eyes still need time to adjust but it’s a beginning.

Have you ever said, ‘tonight I must get a good sleep because I have a long day tomorrow,’ and found you sleep very little? Have you ever said ‘let’s talk. Now’s the time’ and noted how silence ensues? Maybe if you desire something too desperately, you may not be able to get the best of it. Is that the same with the death of a loved one? Wanting so much to keep their memory alive, to remember each and every detail you find yourself looking into a dark and dingy hole which drags you in. A bit like a black hole. In the same way, I’m led to believe God was there all along. It was my own frantic screaming which stopped me from hearing that voice of help I had relied my last hope on. God gives to only those who have the ability and the willingness to accept. I was not ready to accept, I was not ready to listen and it was my mistake.

A few days before she passed away, Charley asked me find and print out the poem shown above. Another patient who was reaching the end of his life had told her about it and said they’d discuss it together when she had read it. They never got the chance, he passed away that night. When Charley finished reading the poem, with tears rolling down her beautiful face she said, ‘It doesn’t sound so bad having read that. Are you afraid? I wont leave till you say goodbye’. But I never got a chance to say goodbye. I was reminded of the poem while at the weekly hospice training, and it brought back sore memories. Am I ready to say goodbye yet? I don’t know. =/.

Reach – S Club 7.

We used to sing this song at school back in year 6. It was our song. It is now the first song on my playlist and I thought I’d share it with you.

I read this quote a few days ago, and it really hit home and really made me think:

If you focus to much on those you have lost, you’ll end up pushing away those that are left. – Unknown²

_________________________________

Title: Iridescent – Linkin Park.
Picture 1: I have had this picture on my computer for a very long time, and so no longer have the link to it.
Picture 2: Same with this picture.
²Quote from http://www.boardofwisdom.com/

Brother: You’re dizzzzzzy bruv!

Me: Errrr, do you even know what that means?

Brother: It’s like crazy or weird.

Me: *rolls eyes* I’m not crazy or weird. What you on?

Brother: YES you are! And now you’re annoyed. And you haven’t said a single nice thing to me this morning. You’re always depressed. And you never laugh except when you’re playing tik tik¹ or when you’re on your laptop talking to your girlfriend.

Me: Shut up you idiot! I don’t have a girlfriend. T_T

2^nd Jan 2011

*****

Occasions like the beginning of a new year or a birthday allow us to take out the measuring stick and see how much we have grown, see how much we changed over the last year, and determine where we are standing. It gives us an opportunity to blow the dust off the goals and resolutions we set ourselves at the beginning of the previous year and take a break from the daily grind of life and see where the world has taken us. Are we still standing at the cross-roads lost, with no direction, no purpose, or have we found a path, our path, leading us where we want to go?

Here are my resolutions for this new year (in no particular order), and you can ask me at the end of this year if I was able to fulfil any of them:

• Stop being so nice and yet overall be more nice to people (refer to conversation with little brother above). Don’t ask me to explain this one.
• Survive next semester and make time for people even when there is little time. I’ll show you my weekly timetable once uni is in full swing.
• Stop procrastinating Procrastinate less. I don’t think a 10,000 word dissertation can be written the night before. Maybe it can. I haven’t tried so don’t know. Hmm… Cutting down on the time wasting would help too.
• Smile more and actually be happy for at least 10 minutes a day. Maybe it’s time to start smiling lessons in front of the mirror.
• Improve my vocabulary, and add more long and weird jargon words to my lexicon. The longest word I know at the moment is probably ‘hypothalamic-pituitary-gonadal axis’. SHUSH! it is a word and not 3 words with dashes in between.
• Write in my diary more. Yes I have a diary. Not a ‘Dear diary’ type diary, but a diary.
• Try not to forget any birthdays or anniversaries this year. I’ve started writing them in my year planner though I have forgotten a lot of the dates. Eeeek! Send me your dates people.
• Try and give library books back at the right time. Once I got a fine of £32.50. I could have bought 6 copies of that same book and still had money left over for some chicken and chips.
• Create a TV booking sheet, as to allow me to book my rightful place in front of the TV when Manchester United matches are on.
• Get a new job and somehow fit it around my already cramped weekly schedule.
• Rediscover the Nas I remember as a distant memory. Time to finally come out the closet I think.  NO Not THAT closet. I’ve never been in THAT closed. Will elaborate on this one later. Just remind me.
• Reference all my blog posts properly so that Furree Katt knows where my titles come from.
• Eat more badaam (almonds). UPDATED – 20 minutes after having initially posted.
• Learn to realise when food is hot and safe to eat. Just burnt my tongue AGAIN eating my fav daahl. UPDATED 2/01/11 @ 20.58.
• Remember to update this list, and actually stick to it.

We should not just celebrate the end of a year and the beginning of a new one, we should celebrate the end of every day knowing we made someone happy and start the next one hoping we can do it again...²

Last time I was at the bank waiting in the queue to pay a bill, I heard the following from an amazing little girl, who was no more than 9 or 10, talking to her friend and it brought a smile to my face:

This is my last cookie, and I’m only giving it to you because you’re my best friend. I hope you like it.

Would YOU share your last cookie?

Smile! And make those around you smile. :)

_________________________________

Title: Machines – Biffy Clyro
¹ Tik Tik, noun. A game played by my brother and I in our bedroom upstairs with a shuttlecock and hardback books. Rules are similar to badminton. It was named as such by the mother. Injuries experienced are predominantly to do with the fingers.
² Quote from http://www.boardofwisdom.com/ which I read on another blog.

Me: Do animals feel pain?

Little Miss Sunshine (LMS): Yeah I guess so. You can see it when you cut off their arms or something. What about plants?

Me:  Hmm. Well they don’t really have a nervous system as such. So I don’t really see where the pain would register. And transpiration doesn’t count as tears.

LMS: Hehe. Lactation?

Me: What the hell? I just imagined a plant with boobs. Every 6 months they pop out boobs and just squirt milk everywhere.

LMS: I always get confused. What’s that word for crying? Lac..

Me: Lacrimation? It’s derived from the Latin word ‘lacrime’ meaning to cry, I think.

*****

Last weekend my mum went to Pakistan. Me, my dad and my younger brother went to drop her off at the airport. Just as we were leaving to come back home, the following conversation ensued between my brother and I:

Him: Who are all these ladies in the red skirts and hats?

Me: They’re the air hostesses, you know the ladies on the planes who bring you food and whatnot.

Him: I bet they get to fly a lot and see lots of places. Do they get free tickets?

Me: I guess so. It’s part of their job. But I’m not too sure.

Him:  When they have gone abroad with a flight, do they like get to see the place? Or are they kept under curfew and can’t leave the airport?

Me: That would really suck if they couldn’t leave the airport.

Him: You know what. If they get good pay, then I too wanna be an air woman

… (after a I started laughing) air man.

I know this is a post about happiness and smiles, but when I typed ‘air hostess’ into Google, some of the stuff that came up would’ve made some guys a bit too happy. So to save on the kleenex, I decided to use this picture. 8-). She is pretty.

*****

You may remember the post I wrote about happiness. If not you can read it by clicking here. There’s not much else I want to say but would like to share a photo with you. This was spotted by the ever so lovely Aam in labs last year while we were looking at blood slides down the microscope. The smile on her face was bigger than the one you see below, so I took a photo of it for her. It shows a smiley faced neutrophil (correct me if I’m wrong, I sucked at spotting things down microscopes).

Smiles can be found anywhere if you just look hard enough – (can I quote myself?)

 

Before the rising of the golden sun,

Let me decorate each of its rays with happiness, prosperity, laughter and fun.

This is more than just an Eid wish; more than a message too,

For it comes with warm and loving thoughts meant for your loved ones and you.

 

Eid Mubarak to all the readers.

=] x

“Have you ever had that orange coloured fruit which is really juicy and sweet but after a few seconds it really dries up your mouth and makes it seem like there’s cobwebs growing in there?” I asked the two sitting next to me.

The thinking look came onto the General’s face, "Hmmm…”

“Are you talking about tangerines?” asked Dum.

“Noooo. Tangerines don’t give you oral cobwebs. I don’t know what it’s called.” I replied. “Wait let me google it.”

“I think I know what you might be talking about,” said Dum with his distinctive enlightened ‘oh’ look.

Googling ‘What fruit dries your mouth?’ came up with a yahoo answers page link. “According to this, it’s called a persimmon,” I informed the others.

“Suck this 12 inch baby dry!” shouted Dum randomly, pointing in between his legs. Oh dear, here comes the guy talk.

Which other thing is made to a 12 inch size? “Bloody hell man, that’s the size of a normal 30 cm ruler!” I exclaimed rolling my eyes.

“It would be okay if it was that size when standing up. Otherwise all that blood…” added the General.

“It’d make you faint. Imagine that, you see some one really hot  and just swoon because of all that blood being directed away from the brain.” I said.

“Haha! Gives a whole new meaning to how long can you last,” said Dum.

“But you know, it’s not like we’re 12 any more when it used to randomly just pop up. I think he’d have a bit of self control now… I hope,” General said giving Dum a scrutinising look.

“All you need now is that wooden stump thing that pirates have and you’ll officially have yourself a third leg!” I said laughing.

*****

“Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you. But if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.” – Thoreau. (sent to me by bubblegum)

What is happiness? Why is that when we are happy things are easy to deal with and it all fits into place? But when sorrow is upon us, we can’t wait for it to end. I attempted to answer that question in one of the parts of ‘The Story’ and so would like to shift the focus somewhere else. What do you do when happiness seems to have left your life?

I’d like to present to you another quote which was said to me by a good friend of mine while we were discussing this issue of happiness a week or so ago:

“There are some things in life that don’t come running to you. You gorra get up off your stinkin’ sofa and go get ‘em” – RP.

At first glance it may seem that the two quotes above are contradictory in the message they give. The first tells us that we should wait patiently for happiness to come to us whereas the latter seems to imply that happiness is something that we have to go and actively find ourselves. I agree with both and think you can employ both methods without any conflict. They are, I believe, two different stages of the same process, one coming before the other.

If you want gold for example, you must first seek where gold is. There’s no point looking for it in the kitchen cupboards or in a chemist shop and if you were to do so, you’d never find it. It’s the same with happiness I think. If a person finds themselves bereft of happiness but does nothing but sit at home thinking about the injustices of life and the bad things that have happened to them, their negativity will lead to depression and or other psychological problems. The butterfly of happiness isn’t everywhere, especially in those places that are bound to bring back tear-jerking memories or feelings of anger and hate. First you have to find where happiness is, and then you can wait patiently for it to come to you.

Just before starting this post, I asked a friend of mine of their views on this topic and they said, “happiness is always there in the back of our mind, but we’re so caught up in our sorrow that we don’t pay attention to it.” It’s true isn’t it? When we’re overwhelmed by pain or sorrow we tend to forget the little stars that are shining for us day and night, sparkling around us like little butterflies bringing us laughter and smiles every day.

The gift of happiness is one that we all have the ability to give to someone. It’s cheap to give, but very weighty in it’s value. A simple joke, just giving someone a hand or sitting with a person and talking about random things can bring the light back into the eyes of someone who is looking for a reason to smile. Next time you see someone with a tear in their eye, remember they could be waiting for a butterfly to come to them and that butterfly could be you.

 

Hoping that Eid day will be bright and wonderful for you
A celebration that's perfect in all that you do.
Bringing all the blessings you're wishing for...
Love, happiness laughter and much more.

This is my prayer for you my friend,
May Allah bless you and your loved ones till the very end.

 

 

Whether you are celebrating on Friday or Saturday a very very happy Eid Mubarak to all the readers.

=]

I like writing. It's my pressure valve which I can use to relieve the excessive build-up of emotions and feelings that sometimes threaten to blow me up. It's a way I can put down onto paper things that are eating me up on the inside so that I can face them and deal with them.
There is one such piece of writing, which when I showed to a few friends of mine they suggested I should share it with others for reasons you'll find out when you read it for yourself. I started writing this back in February, a few days after my birthday and it's only just recently that I have completed it. Many of you have been waiting to read this 'story' for a long time and at first I had decided to put it into one pdf file which could be easily downloaded. But seeing as how time consuming that is, I shall now upload each part as I finish typing it. This is where it begins...