The room

I get up and rush to the bathroom. I don’t know how long I’ll stay in here but i know it’ll feel like forever. Staring at the blue bathroom walls is better than being out there in class where you have to deal with things. Here, at least I can have some peace where nobody stares at me when I see my eyes get blurry and feel the wetness roll down my cheeks, my chin and onto god-knows-what surface. Better out than in.

................................................................

I sit quietly at my desk as I watch her get up and leave. I don’t blame her for leaving. Bio might be my favourite subject, or at least my least hated one, but being in this class makes me wonder what person dreamt up the sick torture labeled ‘school ’.

While I think all this, ma’am mentions how we, as Muslims, shouldn’t spend so long in the bathroom. She drones on about something to do with Shaytaan which I’ve already heard at least a billion times from my mother.

I know she’s not wrong. She’s far from it in fact but then I do wonder why she _really_ left. Which twisted dark room of life is she in right now that she can’t find the switch that would light up her room?

I cannot remember when I hear it. I cannot remember the moment or the person I hear it from. I am too lost in my thoughts when my ears catch wind of the words that interrupt those said thoughts:

She went to the bathroom to cry.

After hearing that, I can only think the following things:

Why do some people in the world have to be insensitive and unsympathetic to other people’s situations?

And

Which dark room of life was she stuck in and when would she find the light switch? Maybe life had played the regular-recurring, cruel prank of tying the person up and blind-folding them for the ‘extra difficultly’ level of life?

The sentences never stop echoing around in my head. Long till night fall when my heads hits the pillow and I get ready to drift off into sleep, into the peace and quiet away from biology, shaytaan and the dark rooms of the house-of-life....

....................................……......................

I am still stuck in that same room. This time, though, it’s different because this time the room is lit up. It is not lit up all the time to its full potential because there are still dark days, but it is a much, much brighter room than it once was.

As is my mind and my life, no matter how cliche it sounds. I’ve come a long way and I’ve got an even longer way to go. A way I’m determined to finish whether it’s by crawling or running.

And I’ll see you completing it with me.

................................................................

Cloudy days don’t last forever. In the end, the sun shines even if it does on an empty planet inside a desolate room to light up a young girl’s life. The radiant rays will go on to light up her life far brighter than any old light bulb.

And it’s okay if they don’t shine all the time. They’ll come again. All you have to do is have hope that they will.

(Note: the above story happened around 4 years ago and I’m glad to tell you that the girl in the story is in a much better place now. I first sent this story to her for approval. She said I could publish it as long as I removed her name and as long as there was no else indicator of who it was about. She also wanted a more positive portrayal of herself and that’s how the second half of the story was born!)