When Faith Tremble (Unfiltered)

Ya Allah… tonight I’m not whispering, I’m roaring into the dark.

My heart feels like glass, splintered, each breath slicing me open.

People tell me “Sabr. Patience. Time heals.” What a cruel joke.

Patience tastes like metal in my mouth now. Time feels like a weapon, not a cure.

I’m tired, Ya Rabb. Tired is too soft a word — I’m wrecked.

I’m throwing job applications like paper planes into a hurricane, not even caring where they land anymore.

I’m dragging my family’s weight across my back while my knees buckle.

I’m smiling for them while inside my soul is screaming bloody murder.

And still, every damn day, another crisis. Another wound. Another insult to swallow.

Because I’m the eldest, I’m supposed to be Atlas, carrying the world without complaint.

But Ya Allah, I’m choking.

My prayers sound like screams into a void.

My patience is a noose.

My faith is sand slipping through my fists.

I’m angry.

Furious at life. 

Furious at this endless test. 

Furious at myself for not being strong enough to keep smiling.

Furious at a world that expects me to take blow after blow and still stand upright.

I’m trying to rebuild my life from the ashes, but how do you build when the fire never stops?

You know me.

You’ve seen me at 3 a.m., face pressed into a pillow, whispering “Ya Rabb” through tears that taste like iron.

You’ve watched me drag my broken body through another day, pretending it’s fine.

Ya Allah, if this is a test, stop making me feel like I’m failing it.

If there’s a lesson, reveal it before I lose myself completely.

I’m not a saint. 

I’m not unbreakable. 

I’m a person, cracked open, bleeding in silence.

Right now, I’m not kneeling in surrender — I’m kneeling because I have nothing left.

I need You. I need a way out. I need a break.

Because I’m standing on the edge of myself, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep from falling.

And yet… 

under the rage, under the wreckage, some small voice still whispers Your name.

Some ember still glows: Alhamdulillah, He’s listening.

Ya Allah, drag me out of this darkness.

Grip me by the soul and pull me back before the night swallows me whole.

Make me strong enough, or make this storm stop.

Because right now, You’re the only thing I’m holding on to.

And my grip is slipping.