These are the things that Laila misses

Stones and bones;
snow and frost;
seeds and beans and polliwogs.
Paths and twigs, assorted kisses,
We all know who Susie misses...

- The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold

I miss having a purpose. I don't really miss school as it is - I wouldn't go back to the classes, the stress of SACs and exams, the pressure of expectations, not only because others want you to do well but because you want to do well, and 'well' had to be an exceptional score. But I miss the routine, the going, the knowing what I had to do in order to achieve something. I miss the nudges to stick to the path, I miss the short-term goals that led up to the long-term one, and there was always that impending feeling... it's coming... closer and closer... we're almost there. My routine now is wake up around 8am, feed my cats, go for a bike ride, and... a question mark. Nothing. A wait. I read a bit, I talk to my cousins and sister, we go a-walking, we go places, or we don't, and it just feels like circles. 

It's not that I don't have anything to do. I already mentioned that to-do list that I'm sort of working my way through. University stuff... cat stuff (still have to find two homes, prepare for the second litter, and then organise the desexing :/ )... bank/work stuff... learning to drive... artsy stuff... But there's no drive. It's gone. It's not that I don't want to go to university, or I'm not that excited. I'm just... distracted by the Nothing that's going on.

I miss the effect of prayer. Back in the day, when I had things to do, and prayer was neatly fitted into my timetable, it had an effect. Sure, as the average human, I'd get distracted every now and then. Despite that, having these goals, having a purpose, knowing what I wanted specifically, I had this need to concentrate. I know that sounds so superficial - you want something from God, you pay attention, but when you don't, you forget Him - but I was motivated, and I'd put in everything into concentrating, into knowing what I was saying rather than mindlessly rambling away in Arabic, and there was always this feeling of fulfillment afters. Of satisfaction. Maybe the feeling of being purified or something. But in this weird haze that I'm living in, as I said... I'm distracted by the nothing. I forget to concentrate, and only when I'm finished I curl up in a ball and pray to have it back. 

I miss being a kid. Cheesy, I know. The other day we went to my cousins' house, and I took the littlies to the park. I don't think I ever stopped swinging, but since I've 'grown up', I haven't done the monkey bars. I had a go at them that afternoon, and owwww, it killed, but damn it felt good. I did them twice over, because for once they were high enough so that my feet couldn't touch the ground anyway. I remember in the early years of primary school, how agile we were, how flexible, how much energy we had, as we fearlessly climbed onto the top, flipped over, shamelessly showing off our cute little potbellies. I remember running my fingers over the hardened ridge of blisters on the underside of our hands. We were so tough. And now my hands feel so soft, and it makes me sad. 

I miss singing at the top of my lungs. When I use the word 'singing', of course, I'm using it rather loosely based on what I intend to do, because you know, realistically I can't actually sing. At the beach the other day, I encouraged my little sister to sing 'Let it Go' from Frozen as loudly as she could from the bathroom, and I joined in of course, because I was shielded from the 'audience' in my little shower stall. We ended up starting a sing-a-long with some random little girls that I never got to meet, because they left by the time we got out. But it was a great feeling, until my cousin mentioned that they could hear us outside the bathroom. I used to do it at home, vacuuming, as I once mentioned before, but apparently people can hear me when I do. I'm embarrassed to do it around my cousins, or maybe I just want to spare them the agony, and so I can't do it anymore. But the urge to just let it rip, let it go (see what I did there?), is always there. Just waiting.

I miss the way my family used to be, before the financial crisis. Sure, we weren't exactly Full House warm and fuzzy, but the fights used to be the exception, and it wasn't always so dismal. It goes like this: my father, when we're driving, or just chilling at home, will start lecturing on something to do with using too much electricity or water or just the cost of living in general, and how everything is very bad right now, we need to be careful. When I need something to be bought, I'll mention it to my mother. She'll ask my why I don't ask my dad, and I'll say that I don't want to stress him out. So, because she loves us, she'll go tell him to tone down the lectures because clearly they stress all of us out. Lo and behold: explosion. Tears. My dad will turn on us and start on the appreciation/gratitude speech: Don't I buy everything you need? Have I ever denied you anything? Are you stressed? Why is she saying you're stressed? We're okay, okay? I'm just reminding you not to be wasteful. Nobody is grateful in this house, blah, blah, blah... We robotically agree with him. Finit.

What makes me sad is that for so long we have wanted extended family. For so. Damn. Long. And after all the years of prayer, God, as He does, grants our dua like a backhanded compliment. Sure, you can have your cousins, but I'm going to send them over at the worst possible time, when you're in the deepest of ditches. Because Allah tests those He loves the most, and He never gives you a burden you can't bear. Without those two bits of gold... so help me, I don't know where I'd be.

But my cousins will eventually move out, and I'm stuck because I selfishly want them to stay, but I know it's hard for them to stay because they have to deal with a lot of crap in our house, and so even I think they should go, but then I don't want them to because I want them here and I want it to be Full House.

I miss writing stories. I miss the brief glimpses of ideas that'd flit through my mind, that I'd latch onto, and think and think and think, and come up with something that I'd love for a while and hate later. The many empty notebooks that pervade my desk mock me.

And I miss people. I miss the people at school that I never really spoke to, that I don't even really want to speak to, that I probably never will speak to. I miss their presence, their predictability, their familiarity. Until university starts, I have no established social life, and it feels... lonely. I miss seeing my friends regularly at school, and somehow we always had things to talk about, but now, in all the nothing, even though Star doesn't live so far away, I can't bear to always see her, because sometimes I just don't know what to say. And I don't like texting people. I'm sick of texting my other friends. I want to see them in person, and I want to do things, but everyone's so busy or they have strict families or it's just too hard so all we have is texting and I hate it. I miss my extended family. I haven't Skyped with my favourite cousin or aunt in ages, and I know they're busy, they have kids, my cousin's brother is joining her in Dubai, they too have lives, but I wish I was a part of their lives too. I've upgraded to Whatsapp, because a few more of my cousins and nieces have that, and it's great because they spam me with their photos, but I miss the conversations, where we actually exchange meaningful words and sentences, but they just don't do that over text, and they're so far away, and they're growing up, and there's more of them, and I'm not there and once again, I'm not a part of their lives, and I don't know how to be. I miss my online friends, our superdy long conversations, always random and funny, but also with a lot of soul. My soul, anyhow. I miss Sam, I miss Arvie... I worry for Arvie, because I haven't heard from her since the typhoon in the Philippines, and I'm only taking solace in that it's a question mark too. I miss Meli, I miss Ali, I miss that world.

I realise I may have come across as depressed, but honestly, I'm not really. A lot of this is just whinging, isn't it? I mentioned I have things to do, and some other stuff is just cliché and nostalgia that makes an appearance every now and then. So if you feel the need to console, don't worry about it ^_^ It's what happens when you have too much time. C'est la vie, this too shall pass, life goes on.

This song breaks my heart. I love it so much, I play it on repeat, and I don't know why, because it's not like I've ever experienced 'love'. But I wonder, when it comes to a relationship, whether I'd be the giving tree, or the person who cuts it down to a stump. I don't want to be a stump, nor do I want to be the person who sits on it. 

I wonder if it has to be that way. But then I think of good ol' Jodi Picoult's quote about a relationship never being 50-50, how there's always someone who loves the person a leetle bit more. I wonder...

... too much time -_-'

Peace in,
Laila