#exmoose

Like i cant overstate how wild this is. Like when i first got on tumblr i was a sad 15 yo old growing up in an abusive household with no end in sight. And things went downhill from there. There were years where i could allow myself the thought that things would ever actually get better.

Some days I think I’m ugly, some days I think I’m cute. But most days I’m complacent.

I wish I can go back to Fall 2010- start of senior year of high school. I wish I had the self knowledge and awareness I do now, and not wear the hijab. So I could be seen. So people can REALLY REALLY see me for who I am. No just a Muslim quirky black girl who wears XLarge hot topic band shirts, I know nothing about. LOL

If I didn’t wear the scarf then maybe, just maybe I would have the balls to profess my love for my middle school crush. Zach Gordon. He is the only truly guy I have really really like. Tbh. Even looking back at all the relationships I had (which isn’t many) and all the fleeting crushes, in the back of my mind I always liked him. And. Now I’m coming to realize that I loved him. I knew back then he was out of my league. I wasn’t the type of girl he would be seen with. But how would I know?

After graduation, I internally said my goodbyes and didn’t think of him. Until college. Yes. He appeared in intro to some college math class and my heart dropped out of my ASS. No lie. I’m like holy fucking shit. This can’t be real. But I was wear a fucking purple hijab wrapped around my fucking head, with a long sunflower purple dress and long sleeves. Like WTF. Come on!!!! I want to slap myself. We never crossed paths in that class.

Until… NEXT semester… he was in my Nutrition class. I’m like omg. Looking back, I felt the universe was slapping me in the face and saying HELLO, wake up, this is your fucking chance to actually speak to the guy snd form a friendship of some kind. But no. I was too busy in another dead in relationship with some stoner from my job. But I was sooooooo excited when our professor told us we had a group project and he was in my group. And we had EXCHANGE NUMBERS!!!!! I got Zach Gordon’s number! My Zach. From Holmes MS! It only took like 10 years but I got it.

*Sigh* nothing happened though. Turns out he was the slacker of the group and didn’t participate so I carried his weight, happily. I would do anything for him. Semesters over. I lost his number. The end. That was 2013-2012.

The last time I saw him(2015), I was driving by a shopping mall and there he was all muscle and those deep ass dimples. He was coming from the gym. Turns out he worked at the gym and what did your girl do? Yes, this girl got herself a membership. As I was filling out the forms and the staff was talking to me, I heard a voice. It was him. He was asking the staff member something. I looked up, and I immediately looked down. My face was burning. Palms sweaty. I stared at the writing on the gym application. Is this real life???. I looked back up, our eyes meet for a split second. I wanted to die. And then he walked away. I felt like a stalker lol. Not s crazy stalker but pathetic stalker. Girl, what are you doing? Why are you feening over some white boy who barleys knows your name and wouldn’t give you the time of day!?

So I walked out and never went back. I pushed him from my mind and hurried him in my memories. The longing and dreaming of him, making up romantic scenarios in my mind need to end.

It’s July 2018 and I’m scrolling Facebook, outside, smoking a jack and gasped. There is that face. That handsome face.I stopped breathing, my eyes glued to the screen, I think I didn’t breathe for 2 minutes. “Our Beloved Zachary Gordon”…..

His brother posted his obituary on Facebook. Everyone was shocked! I was shocked. I had no words.. I can’t remember how I felt but looking back, I did not process his death. I sorta kinda forgot about him until I saw this.

my mind has and still am being clouded with questions,

questions that needs to be solved,

for the sake of clear comprehension,

due to existing as a person with limitations.

wish i was the person i used to be,

but those days are but a history.

if only contradictions were a friend to facts,

then there wouldn't ever be a dissonance to be burdened with, indeed.

i mean aren't you the almighty? the one who already knows, from the very beginning, what's inside the hearts and minds of men whom you've created?

i suppose you knew this day would come.

Truly a book ahead of its time!!

What is a Fragile Ego? A weak sense of self that is marked by an overweight assumption of importance, and a grandeur show of self worth, often fiercely defended when any threat to the show of importance and self worth is presented. For example, if my brother asks me if he can use my personal items, and I say no, and then becomes defensive when I freak out when he literally walks to my items and takes them, then he’s probably got a Fragile Ego.

Does your father become angry when you wear makeup or ‘revealing’ clothes? Fragile Ego.

Does your brother become defensive when you ask him to clean up his own filth? Fragile Ego.

Does your son jump between performative Jannah-Under-Your-Feet love and intense demand of daily care? Fragile Ego.

How do we respond to these childish men?

Stand your ground, stand in your truth. No means no. Don’t give in when they don’t complete a task they need to do themselves. Don’t be afraid to tell them to take care of themselves.

Never raise your voice, allow them to begin shouting and when they begin hurling obscenities at you, tell them ‘you’re the one shouting, not me’

State common sense as common sense. If they say something ridiculous like ‘WeLL DO YU eXPEcT mE tO CoOK FOR MYSELF?????’ Reply with, ‘yes. That is a basic skill all people must learn.’

Allow yourself to feel anger, but don’t let it consume you. You can’t talk sense into a brick wall, and at this rate a brick wall is better to talk to than these childish men. If you can not navigate out of the confrontation, politely and calmly say ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ or whatever équivalant you feel comfortable with in your culture or language.