I had forgotten the sweetness of imaan, the beauty of dhikr, the love of Allah, everything that had wanted me to come into this deen and become a “practicing Muslim.” Yet little things that Allah shows me renew that memory, and my heart slowly begins to regain power. It’s slow, and I’m still chugging along with life, but I must always remember the sweetness of deen that I have forgotten.
If I ever tell you I’m going to sleep and then you see me posting or liking things online for about an hour immediately after that, I promise I wasn’t lying to you, I’m just bad at going to sleep and it is usually a long process that begins with disengaging from any sort of immediate contact with people (chats, for example) and ends when everything on my screen is blurry and I’m hallucinating plot points I haven’t written yet
our kids will probably attend a middle school dance where the theme is the 2010’s
they’ll wear leggings with ugg boots and twerk to “call me maybe”
every time I find a youtube video with comments disabled I wonder what kind of shit went down
growing up means realizing a lot of your old friends are assholes
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