Kangen Water

Kangen Water

At first, I was skeptical— as if drinking a certain water could really shift the tides of my health.

Skeptical, despite the flood of testimonials on the internet— those magical stories where ailments vanish like a well-rehearsed trick.

I tried their other waters—Strong Acid, Beauty Water, Strong Kangen—
and slowly, almost imperceptibly, my skin began to whisper a different story.

So I took the plunge, making Kangen Water part of my daily ritual.

The first week was rough.

My stomach rebelled, sending me on a marathon of discomfort.

I asked the seller, “Is this normal?”

They smiled knowingly—“It’s your body detoxing, flushing out the shadows.”

And today, I finally believe.

I live with Endometriosis—a silent storm of pain and chaos.

Where a normal period might last seven days or less, mine stretch into weeks—sometimes two— and after my divorce, the pain grew heavier still.

Four months without a single sign, and then, today—life returns, the cycle begins again.

Alhamdulillah.

Maybe it’s the water.

Maybe it’s something deeper.

But for now, I’ll hold on to this small miracle.

Mr Romeo

Alhamdulillah—for everything that’s led me here, for every twist of fate that brought me to know this remarkable gentleman.

I never imagined I’d feel this way again— smiling uncontrollably, cheeks flushed with a shy warmth, laughing freely, my face lighting up with a grin too wide to hide.

Our story is a little unusual, a digital dance of connection— first through private emails, then personal ones, whispers across WhatsApp and the occasional text.

Despite the six-hour time gap, the three or four years that separate our calendars, and the differences our cultures paint between us— we share more in common than I ever expected.

He is smart, kind, open-minded, and disarmingly cute, with a quirky sense of humor that catches me off guard.

A gentleman, yes—chivalry alive and well in his every move.

Sweet, romantic, and unabashedly a cat lover.

He has this gentle, unique way of encouraging me to be my best, lifting me when I’m weighed down, turning my troubles into mere shadows with his quiet cheer.

He’s spoken of intentions—future promises whispered softly, and if destiny wills it, I hope our story will stretch into forever.

Good night, Mr. Romeo.

Loathe

Loathe.

Maybe it’s extreme, but it’s the only word that fits the mess of feelings swirling inside me right now.

It all started with a Facebook post—one from NS, one of the founders of that famous kebab chain Baba Rafi—shared by a friend.

I dropped a comment, only to find myself swimming in a sea of women who’ve lived versions of this same nightmare.

Sympathy and empathy floated around like lifebuoys, but one comment caught my eye—ruthless, biting, and from a woman.

If it came from a man, I’d probably scroll past.

But from a woman, to another woman drowning in the darkness of a shattered marriage?

That cut deeper than any blade.

I get the cynicism and sarcasm if it came from men—some of them are wired that way.

But when women tear each other down like that, I just wish they’d never taste the bitterness of that pain firsthand—because I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be as brave as those of us who have lived it.

We’re not here seeking justification, nor do we want to play victims.
HECK NO.

We know every story has two sides—no illusions about right or wrong here.

That’s why most of us stay silent, because the world tends to listen more to the cold judgment than to the raw truth.

We don’t need society to confirm we’re right.

All we crave is understanding—a friendly hand to hold when the storm feels endless.

Don’t judge what you haven’t lived.

We want true friends, companions who remind us the dark won’t last forever.

That beyond the thunder, a rainbow waits.

If you can’t say something kind, maybe just say nothing at all.

If you can’t feel what they feel, at least don’t make it harder.

A little empathy won’t hurt.

It might even heal.

But some people?

Born ruthless, dripping cynicism like poison.

That’s the hard truth.

We live in a world that claims men and women are equals, yet when a woman dares to speak out, the blame always circles back to her.

Astagfirullah—where is the justice in that?

When your husband cheats, it’s because you failed—too ugly, not enough, not worthy.

If only you’d made him happy, given him children, prioritized him—he’d never stray.

Newsflash to the cynics:

Even the best wife can’t fix a man born to break promises.

Mistakes on his part aren’t erased by good treatment.

Some men—and some women—are simply born jerks and heartbreakers.

The homewreckers don’t see the scars they leave behind, only their own selfish desires.

Laugh now, bask in your ill-gotten love story.

But don’t come crying when the same knife is turned on you.

I lived this hell.

Tried everything to hold us together.

But Allah SWT showed me it would only hurt more if I insisted on keeping what was broken.

Four years married, two years dating.

No children. I thought it would be okay. I was naïve.

By our third anniversary, everything crumbled.

He did things I never imagined:

Cheating with four women I know of.

Dabbling in forbidden dark arts, conspiracies with devils.

Selling everything we owned, leaving me drowning in debt.

Ignoring me for years.

Unemployed while I became breadwinner.

Disrespecting my family.

Getting a mistress pregnant and denying it.

Marrying that mistress while still legally wed to me.

So don’t tell me there are always two sides.

Not until you’ve lived this pain.

Showing empathy doesn’t make you weak.

It makes you human.

And sometimes, that’s the bravest thing you can be.

Good Bye 2016

Goodbye, 2016

What a wild, hellish ride you’ve been.

So much happened—more than I ever expected in a single year.

The full spectrum of life’s cruel theatrics unfolded before me, just when I thought I had it all figured out— when I believed my life was perfect, only to realize it was nothing but a staged play, a scripted lie for someone else’s gain.

The whole package: Numbness that silenced both joy and sorrow, A new lens to see the world—sharp, unforgiving, Learning to trust that gut feeling when it whispers “something’s wrong,” Figuring out which faces are real friends, And accepting that not all who surround you wear loyalty’s mask.

Love, I learned, doesn’t always conquer all.

Sometimes the one you cherish holds a different dream.

Heartbreak loops on repeat, day after day,

Turning life into a nightmare that clings to your every breath.

But goodbyes?

They’re not always endings.

Sometimes, they’re gateways—doors opening to new journeys, Far better to leave behind a shabby, storm-ravaged relationship than to stay chained by the weight of others’ opinions, Ignoring your own happiness.

I’m grateful, too— For the few who stood firm beside me, Through the wreckage and ruin,Proving loyalty still breathes in this broken world.

People change—sometimes painfully so. 

Best friends become strangers,

And strangers can blossom into the family you never expected.

Betrayal?

It stings so deep it can turn hope into despair overnight.

When those you trusted most shatter that faith, It feels like the world has lost its color.

But here’s the truth: 

Don’t waste time chasing those who never cared,

Stop blaming yourself for storms you never caused.

Starting over?

It’s terrifying.

A plunge into the unknown.

But also—a chance.

A chance for something new, Something better, A journey waiting just beyond the horizon.

2016, you were excruciating, surprising, Life-changing, friendship-shattering, An emotional roller coaster I never asked to ride.

So, goodbye.

Thank you—for the lessons, for the pain, for the growth.

I am ready now.

Ready for 2017.

Time to Move on

Damn right, it’s about time to move on.

It’s been almost seven months since the judge declared my marriage over — sealed, final, no turning back.

I’ve lived through most of the mourning phases — and yeah, I’ll admit, those weren’t my finest moments.

Countless nights I cried myself to sleep, drowning in heartbreak.

It took everything I had just to plaster on a big, fake smile after that hurricane ripped through my life.

Waking up each day, forcing myself to pretend I was curious, excited about what the future might hold — when inside, all I felt was numb.

Pretending the storm never shook me — especially in front of those who cared.

Forcing smiles around family and best friends, just to spare them pity and worry.

Desperately hiding the truth: I’ve lost all desire.

Dreams that once burned bright now feel like distant ghosts.

Simple acts — getting out of bed, stepping outside — lose their meaning.
Food, my old comfort, tastes bland, uninspiring. 

Sometimes I skip meals just because I don’t care anymore.

Leaving the house feels like torture, yet returning to my room offers little solace.

Days blend together locked away, disconnected from the world.

Avoiding new people because I refuse their pity.

Bitterness shadows my thoughts — especially when it comes to love, relationships, and marriage.

I feel like a damaged good, broken beyond repair.

Hatred for myself grows louder than ever.

I tread carefully when anyone new shows interest — a vow made to stay single, to protect what little remains of my heart.

Social events drain me; the questions I dread hang in the air like poison.

Lonely — even in the loudest, most crowded rooms.

Believing, deep down, I’m not good enough. 

That happiness isn’t meant for me.

But now — after seven months — it’s time.

Time to MOVE ON.

Stop drowning in regrets over what I cannot change.

That chapter is closed. 

Sealed. 

Locked away for good.

BISMILLAH — here’s to new beginnings.

Here’s to finding light after the darkest storms.

Not For Me

Part 1 — The Song-Inspired Reflection

I was searching for answers At the crime scene where you’re tangled too deep. 

Found a note, a number, Just another clue — and it leads straight to you.

A shadow of doubt crept in, A feeling that you weren’t true to me.

I should’ve known better than to swallow your lies.

You might fool the world, but I see through your disguise — You’re not the one for me, babe.

No, no, uh-uh.

Nothing will ever be the same again with you.

No, no, uh-uh.

Now I see where this is headed.

No, no, uh-uh.

If you think this is what love’s supposed to be,

Let me tell you — it’s not for me.

I won’t be a character in your screenplay, Did you rehearse your lines on me?

What’s the story?

Who wins — me or him?

Caught in the crossfire,

I’m tired of this endless game of hide and seek.

I’m getting the feeling it’s time for me to leave.

You can fool anyone, but not me — I see who you really are.

No, no, uh-uh (yeah, yeah).

Things will never be the same with you.

No, no, uh-uh (oh).

Now I know what it’s coming to.

No, no, uh-uh (yeah-eah).

If you think this is how love should be, Let me tell you — it’s not for me.

Yeah, yeah, I said no, no.

No way.

No, no, no, no.

I’ve had enough of your games, your lies — And they won’t just disappear.

Don’t try to justify my reasons to stay.

No, no, uh-uh.

Let me hear you say it — no, no.

No, no, uh-uh.

Let me tell you — it’s not for me.

No, no, uh-uh.

If you think this is what love should be,

Let me tell you — it’s not for me.

No, no, uh-uh (whoo).

Things will never be the same again with you.

No, no, uh-uh (baby).

Now I know what it’s coming to.

No, no, uh-uh (yeah-eah).

If you think this is how love should be, Well, let me tell you — it’s not for me.

---

Part 2 — My Truth

I guess it’s too soon to start all over again.

Maybe love, this time, isn’t meant for me.

I should’ve listened to my heart’s quiet warning: It’s too early to open that door again.

I know myself — I’m the type who can’t stand being alone, Someone always needs to be beside me.

So I act tough, brave — pretending I don’t need anyone.

I keep repeating the magic mantra: “I don’t need a man, I don’t need commitment.”

What I truly need now is me time and a mountain of work.

It’s time to work harder than ever before.

No room for distractions — This moment is for me, family, friends, and the grind.

Yet deep down, I know better.

I realize I’m craving someone to share it all with — Feelings, dreams, goals, the messy beautiful chaos of life.

That special someone is out there somewhere, Even if I haven’t found them yet.

I’m not complaining about my life right now, Or the twists it’s taken.

But sometimes, I miss having that person — The one who’ll cheer every wild, crazy dream I dare to dream, Share silly little stories with me,
Hold the darkest secrets of our past, And together, build a little family filled with love.

When I see young couples with their children, Or expectant parents glowing with hope, I can’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy — Not for their happiness, but for the timing — Wondering when it’ll be my turn.

To have a home of my own, A loving husband, Two or three adorable kids running around.

Until then, I’ll wait patiently.

Doing my best not to stumble twice.

I’ll protect my heart better this time.

No more past mistakes — only lessons learned.

For now, it’s me time, family, best friends, work — And a little fun sprinkled in, Careful that no one gets hurt while I’m finding my way.

Really?

Really

These days, it feels like words — “I like you,” “I miss you,” “I love you” — are spoken so lightly, like passing whispers in the wind.

What happened to the days when we took time to truly know one another?

When a simple conversation would spark a gentle flame,And only when both hearts quietly agreed, Did friendship blossom into something more.

That beautiful, slow dance of discovery — it seems to have slipped away.

Now, people rush —  Diving headfirst into relationships Before their souls have had a chance to touch.

How can we truly know someone in mere days, or even months?

Maybe I’m asking for too much, or maybe my heart is still learning to heal.

After surviving my own storm — That darkest nightmare — I find myself wary, cautious, even bitter, When it comes to love’s fragile promise.

I don’t write these words for fleeting attention, But because, to me, Words like “I like you,” “I love you,” and “I miss you” Are sacred vessels of truth and feeling.

I only offer them when my heart aches with their meaning.

It still baffles me — how some voices toss these words so easily, Even whispering promises as deep as conversion, Yet their truth feels as fragile as glass.

I may sound like the skeptic — the “bad girl” — But forgive me if I can’t fully believe every tender word or vow. 

It’s not about you.

It’s about the scars I carry,

The lessons learned, And a heart still learning how to trust again.

Right now, love is not my destination.

What I crave instead is quiet strength — Time to work, to grow, To savor life’s small joys,
Free from the weight of relationship drama.

Maybe one day, when the wounds have softened, And hope blooms again, I’ll be ready to listen to love’s gentle call.

But for now, I’ll cherish the calm — And let my heart find its own way home.