Lost

Chapter 100: "Almost Blind"

Posté yor reactionz az you reaz zear reazers! B\

. . . For the first time in weeks, I felt something positive. Hope. Consolation. A bit of reassurance. I started seeing a glimmer of a chance at redemption. I found the words of the ayah remarkably comforting. The part "Those who have transgressed against themselves by sinning" really got me. People would generally take it to mean darkening their soul by sins, destroying their hereafter, etc, but to me it referred to a physical pain, right here, right now. I have been wronged many times in my life, and I've gotten hurt but nothing came close to the pain I felt when I wronged you, because this time, I had no one else to blame. I was the one who brought this upon myself. I couldn't seek comfort, or reassurance and I didn't deserve it. I had viciously attacked some so innocent and pure and I had no freaking reason to do so whatsoever.

Yes, it hurt you. Yes, I caused you a lot of distress while I walked away apparently unscratched, but I was anything by unharmed. I had wounded myself and there was no healing it. I could not escape it. I was the victim of my own oppression. The day I forced myself on you was the day I became a prisoner of my own conscience, locked up and tortured by my own disgusting self with no way to escape. How could I escape my own head, my own thoughts?

'Don't lose hope in the Loving Mercy of Allah', it really resonated with me. Even if I wasn't entirely sure of the His existence yet, I liked the idea of being in His care. I liked the idea of reaching out to Him, of Someone knowing that I regretted what I did and that they believed me. A true friend, a Caretaker Who would take me despite my faults and give me a chance to turn things around from that point on. Unconsciously I started asking Him to pull me out of this abyss that I had drowned myself in. I stared praying. I found myself calling on Him without even realizing it. Sometime later, I started delving deeper into the Qur'an to know Him better. By pure coincidence, a few days after I had met up with Nouman, I came across this facebook post on his page.

It hit me. It hit me really hard. At first I thought he may have posted it for me or about me, given how accurately it represented me, but I knew that was not the case. The post was dated long before I met him.

I couldn't help but think over all the times I'd done wrong and remembered having this nagging feeling that I had to stop. I thought back to every time I'd be keeping a toe out of the line around you and how I'd always know I was wrong even if I disagreed with all of your ideas and thought you were fanatical and mislead.

Every time. Every damn time, right from the day I started tormenting you in the forest all the way to when I attacked you, I would have some sense of being wrong. A feeble twinge of guilt, a passing thought. There was always something. It would always get stronger as my offenses against became bigger. I recalled knowing I was in the wrong when I pressed my lips to your skin the first time in the forest. Something would stop me from getting exactly what I wanted. Something would always stop me from kissing your lips, even if I desperate to taste them. Weather it was in the forest when I was unaware of my feelings for you, in the hospital when I was conflicted about them or  after the shootout when I drugged you and I had absolutely no doubt that I wanted you and loved you with every inch of my heart.