I don’t often write after a breakup, but when I do, you know it sucks.
Lord, if I had written after every breakup from the last 5 years, no one would read my writing.
Not to mention I’d get sick of it.
The question always comes back to me: am I unloveable?
Am I too neurotic, too emotional to be in a healthy relationship?
I’ve gone from heartbreak to heartbreak since I can remember and the path doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.
The lessons don’t seem to be adding up to anything tangible.
You’d think that after every almost-success, you learn something that will make it all work.
Look, man, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I’m having just as hard a time at finding someone to be with as is every other young(ish) Muslim person today.
We’re all struggling to understand one another and be loved.
Trying to balance our values with those superimposed onto us.
Trying to find space for others within ourselves.
Trying to get married without getting hurt in the process.
Whatever, man. What did Chance The Rapper say?
This is my part, nobody else speak.
This is my part, nobody else speak.
Truth be told I still haven’t recovered from my last major breakup, and I got entangled into something else before I was ready.
When you talk to someone for seven months, meet their family, make plans and everything… It’s not easy to accept that loss.
I’m not in the habit of courting-and-telling, so you don’t really need any more details than that. Just know that it hurt like hell and I still don’t know what happened.
As a writer, I have to be open, but as a Muslim, I have to respect others’ privacy.
That’s why my relationships are only alluded to on here. I don’t flesh them out. That stays in my heart. And my, how much pain this little-big heart has endured.
I want to be mad at every girl who’s ever said no to marrying me, but I can’t. On some level, I accept that I’m hard to love. I can be insecure and paranoid. I have trauma that pops up at the worst times. I go through emotional states and it takes a lot of work to get back to balance. That’s a part of who I am, I accept it all. I also have a lot of good qualities but I’m not gonna talk myself up. If you have a good heart and decent mind, you should recognize them.
I can’t really hide any of my flaws because that’s who I am. That’s how Allah created me – to be open. Most people have a problem with my openness – especially in my community, As-Soomaal. Ain’t nobody ever understood or fully appreciated me.
It’s possible that what I keep thinking of as my loss may in fact be theirs. What I keep seeing as more proof of my unlove-ability, might just be a sign that I haven’t met someone capable of appreciating me.
Look, I’m hurt, ok? I’m almost always hurt. That’s my life. This is the downside of having a big soft heart – it gets big hurt. That’s okay. The joys I feel are probably unimaginable to you – but so is my pain. And that’s okay, too. I’m nobody special. Just Said, trying to figure it all out. Do not pity me. I will be upset if you do that. Don’t feel sorry for a nigga, cuz a nigga gone make it.
I’ve said a lot and not really anything at all.
I guess I was kinda hoping that whats-her-name would read this post and know that it was her loss, not mine. How tragically teenage angsty.
I had a science teacher in 7th grade, from Tennessee, who was going through a bad breakup. He talked to us about it, said how unbothered he was. I didn’t believe him – grown men shouldn’t be telling middle schoolers how over his ex he is. That’s weird, dude. But anyway. He talked about getting a new girlfriend and buying her a fur coat and taking her to the monster truck rally. Said he didn’t need whats-her-name, cuz he’d moved on to someone better.
Damn, man. Am I my own 7th grade science teacher from Tennessee?
This is my part, nobody else speak.