Stingy Trust

Expectation is the root of all heartache.
(William Shakespeare)

We are told to see the best in everyone; Not to judge people before we get to know them;People are fundamentally good so treat them kindly and they will in return be good to you.

These advice in and of themselves are good however the world and the people in it are not so black and white. You can get stabbed by the people you love only for someone you hate to treat the wound. Humans are not fundamentally good, we are all born actors. A child learns by imitation:repeating the actions they see and hoping that’s what people want to see. Human beings are but self-serving creatures prepared to do everything it takes to portray them in the best possible light.

Joseph/Yusuf had his own family literally sell him into slavery but a stranger saved him . If his story is not a cautionary tale on the danger of misplaced expectations I don’t know what is. Relationship tags mean nothing if the person hasn’t earned it. Someone being your Sister, brother, best friend, father, mother, aunt, uncle, cousin etc should not award them an automatic VIP section in your heart and life if they haven’t done anything to secure that place. Be kind to your heart and authenticate whoever is to enter: make sure the residents of your soul will not leave it destroyed in their wake.

For there to be betrayal, there must first have lived in its place trust. Be stingy with your trust but generous with love;expect the worst from people but be open and ready to accept the good when it comes. Should anyone say you have trust issues, tell them your soul demands to be protected at all costs.

Future husband, Marriage,, Poetry, Uncategorized

To the future Mr. Hafsah

Dear you,

I sit here on the second day of September hours after dark thinking of you as I always do. Hello Sweetheart. Guess what I learnt today? Are you guessing? Oh! You are hopeless at this game. I’ll just tell you. I learnt who you are. Or at least who you would be to me. According to three reliable sources you would be my polar opposite who would share absolutely nothing in common with me and with whom I would have to resort to creating mutual interest. Now that’s not so bad. You would love me, support me, cherish me, provide for me, and protect me. Oh my god! Could you get anymore awesome? Apparently not, because you would in addition and simultaneously treat me like….s**t but like in a ‘good way’ in the ‘Islamic way’. You would control me, occasionally rape me if I ever have the audacity to deny you what is ‘your right’, you would on occasion or regularly treat me like a slave to remind yourself you are a man because apparently looking inside your pants is not enough assurance. Like a prison warden, you would also dictate and restrict my actions and movements. You would be my head and I your submissive docile tail, just happy to follow in your lead. I also would probably never be able to satisfy you and as it is in the male nature to be polygamous you would give me the amazing gift of as many sister wives as you religiously can. Did someone say husband goals? Run to me daddy.

I think not

Sweetheart you are the love of my love, my soulmate. The perfect stranger created just for me and whom I would love with every bit of my body and soul. I would live and die for you; I would worship and cherish you. I would be your wife, your slave, your whore. I would be the cat that sits purring at your feet and the tigress that tears up your sheets. I promise I would be everything you ever and could ever want: but only, if you’ll be the same for me. Sweetheart I love you so very much but I love Hafsah more. I don’t know you yet but I know Hafsah. She has lived in me for 24 years. I have felt her die and resurrect ten thousand times, I have seen her break and rebuild ten thousand more time. Hafsah has bleed and she has cried, she has loved, she has lost, she has had the people she taught were family kick and spit on her when she fell. But Hafsah…Oh that beautiful child… she gathered everything she had, everything she was and rose. She rose through the punches and the kicks, the spits and the stones, the hate and the pain, the suffering, the heartbreak. Hafsah rose and she kept rising till she took her place in the sky. So now she is there: the brightest star. And though I love you, never doubt that, but I love her more. I love her too much to let anything, anyone, blanket her glow. So if you would only do that: stay away.

But if you would help her glow, if you would feed her light and adorn her with the love she deserves: please hurry up and make it to me. I have no list of requirement for you, I only ask one thing: true, pure love. Give me this and I will give you my heart. But Please be careful with my heart, she is a brittle beast: a precious porcelain I painted steel.