Everything I seem to do reminds me of you. No matter how hard I try to look away, you’re there staring back in my face. I feel so miserable I just want to pull the hair out of my head. I try to do everything to get you out of mind; whether it be through endless shopping on CREDIT, going out to parties, or even getting a new boyfriend. Nothing seems to work. You’re so good at this. How do you do it? Can you tell me your secret? I want to know how you forgot me so fast. I want to forget you too. I want to forget you so badly. And everytime I think I am, everytime I think I’m better, I think of you. I think of all the things about you that made me giggle. Sometimes I long for those days to return. I feel pathetic and retarded for falling for a man I don’t even know. I ask God everyday why I feel this way? I sometimes question myself if I brought this all onto myself. Whether you were a gift to me, and I simply threw you away because of my own careless stupidity.
I walked into the liquor store for the fifth time this past week. I’ve been an alcohol junkie for the past 2 months. It’s to the point where if I’m feeling shitty enough, I take it straight from the bottle. I want to die, yet I don’t because I know that’s just stupid. The numbness that conquers my emotions at night fades away in the morning and kills me in the afternoon; when the clock hits 9, my cycle begins. While I was staring at the selections of Vodka up on the shelf, I heard that damn song by Jack Johnson. I found myself humming along by the song’s end while I managed to feel a few tears down my face. Then some man yelled to his son, who coincidentally bore the same name as you, to quit playing with the beer bottles. I thought why, of all people, would God be pulling a stunt like this on me. It hasn’t just happened once or twice, but many many times. For instance, I was over at my aunt’s house for dinner last night, and I met a little 9 year old girl named Samantha (nicknamed Sammy) that was my aunt’s friend’s daughter. She was a bit chubby too. Everywhere I go, I see remnants of YOU. At the golf course, at the shopping mall, at home, just… everywhere. I then began to stare wide-eyed at the Jack and Grey Goose on the shelves, and grabbed one of each flavor. I’ve learned how to mix my own drinks. Aren’t you proud of me? I’m turning into… into you.
You’re right though. Why must you wait on me? I’m not real. I’m nothing anyways…
"You caught me on a bad day… Today is Ju3mah. Speaking to you tempts me. You are 7araam. We mustn’t talk anymore…"
Of all the things that could possibly be wrong with me, he chose to leave me because I was not Muslim, but a Christian—and only in name, in fact. It saddens me that my choice of faith has been the cause of my sad parting with a man that I thought “could have been” more than just last night’s dessert. We would stay up all night, sprawled out on my deck, staring at the stars and talking about everything from Shakespeare to Homer to Puccini. I sincerely thought that I was on the start of a wonderful relationship. And obviously, I was wrong on that assessment.
In case anyone is wondering what 7araam means, 7araam (pronounced “ha-rahm”) in Arabic literally translates to ”forbidden”. In otherwords, anything that is haraam is prohibited by faith. He asserted that I was forbidden, and would ultimately lead him to sin. First off, he’s a 33 year-old divorced Muslim. Not to mention he’s had sex with 6 women. He also drinks, and occassionally smokes. All of which are against Islamic Law. Oh, and being in a relationship or even MARRYING A CHRISTIAN is NOT against Islamic Law. Islamic Law states that a Muslim may marry anyone that believe in the children of Abraham. That means, a Muslim may marry other Muslims (duh), Jews, and Christians.
I know more about Islam than he does, and I’m not even Muslim.
Read the Qur’an bitch… I did.
Me: Hey, am I haraam?
Muslim Friend: Other than you being all hotness, nope. You’re all halal baby!