Words I've Never Said

Words I've Never Said


I never told you that I hated you.. Two thirds of the time at least.
I never told that you were the one that hurt me, the one that broke me,
Even though you were the one trying to protect me from the world.

You always ask why I never spend time with you, you asked at least a couple hundred times,
I never answered, I never said it’s because you revive the monsters inside of me.
You planted a perfectionist in me, someone that never thought anything is good enough,
Someone that never thought I am good enough.

All the things you said since I was born, are still engraved in my head.
“Stupid, Selfish, Unloyal, Unlovable.
You need to eat less.
You need to be like them, they’re nice and lovely,
Everyone loves them, they don’t love you.
But I love you.”
And then you break me again.

Since the day I existed, you cried because you didn’t want me.
You got bored of kids and you didn’t want to bother with me,
So you told me I was spoiled and got everything I wanted.

You call me greedy and unthankful,
Always wanting what I don’t have, never grateful for what I got.

You ask why I never show you love.
But how I can I give something I never felt?
Something you never made me feel,
Maybe you tried in your way.
But wanting me to be perfect is not loving me,
Criticizing everything I am and will ever be
Is NOT loving me.
You do what you do in the name of love
but who am I to say it is not?

You gave the monsters inside of me a voice,
A piercing scream that I can never shut up.

If I told you all of this, you’d say I’m lying
That I was always ungrateful
And that I never see how much you did for me
How much you suffered because of me.

But I forgive you.
For mistakes you will never acknowledge,
For words you forgot you stabbed me with,
For the walls you made me surround myself with,
Because I was always afraid of when you’ll shoot next.

I might never tell you these words,
But I’ve given them a voice.
And I am being freed of them.
And being freed of hating you.

Maybe one day I’ll be a friend of yours, Mom
But for now.. I’m finding my peace with you.

A Perfectly Painful Year

A Perfectly Painful Year

Everything wrong with Yasir Qadhi’s, “Like a Garment”Course on halal intimacy and sex in islam.

Everything wrong with Yasir Qadhi’s, “Like a Garment”Course on halal intimacy and sex in islam.

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