Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem
The door banged open with a thump, and my sister looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you done admiring yourself?” She asked
“Yup.” I drawled, moving away from the mirror. “But this was a different kind of admiration.”
“Ah, you were having another convo with yourself.” She nodded knowingly. She could read me like a book. She had turned out quite well,without all my hangups. Yet we came from the same womb and grew up in the same home. Amazing. Maybe I should take a page out of her book.
As I closed the door behind me, I left behind the angry kid, the unsure & gawky teenager,the young woman discovering the vicious allure of fashion, the mid twenty something wondering if she looked pretty enough, the thirty year old who wondered if life passed her by, when she saw the lives of others on social media. At any age we can leave our scarred selves behind. It takes guts and it takes tears and it takes lots of dua and turning to Allah, that was first. Nothing can Ever happen without Him.
A fresh start. The door shut, the front door opened and we stepped into the soft, buttery,sunlight.
“You know, I wasn’t So bad after all. I had some good points and some bad points.”
“Duh.” She shrugged. “Everyone has both,You just don’t dwell on either. You work at your strong points and fix the weak, recognise it. So yup, obviously you need to see you differently. That’s what makes us move forward InshaaAllah. If only you knew.”
Now I did. I knew now.