It was a Saturday afternoon, the walls seemed grim with the light from the windows illuminating the apartment. There were boxes surrounding the couches, and furniture splayed all across the room. The clutter cornered my optimism about the future, the blue-gray sky blasting its' ugly colors into a lightless living room. We were in the process of moving out.
I must have been 14 that afternoon, summer was in the air but I wasn't feeling it. The monotonous day-to-day of summer as a young girl tortured me as I couldn't see anyone I wanted to see. My family became a burden, and a burning in my eyes. Angsty pre-teen with ignorance running through her veins, that was me that afternoon.
My mother and I were sitting at the glass table, it was one of the places where conversation was meaningful and interesting. The couch was cluttered with even more boxes, and I was forced into sitting in the chair to converse with the parental unit I had resented for putting me in this inconvenient situation.
“If you don't obey God, you get sent to Hell. You have to fear Him and follow all the rules.” My mother said during while ripping up her receipts. We had been discussing the Mayan Calendar, and it had been a topic running amuck through my middle school that year. It was summer, and I personally had not stopped talking about it.
“What do you do in Heaven? I mean, you don't have anything to strive for in heaven.” I said to her, skeptical about ever even believing that I would get into Heaven. The aftermath was the most important to me, I didn't care about how I died...just about where I ended up.
“Well, you don't have to worry about anything. You would live forever in peace.” She responded in a simplistic way. It must have been more complicated than that. I felt as if she didn't understand this idea of our afterlife as well as I had.
“Can't God forgive you in Hell and send you to Heaven?” I asked her out of curiosity. Secretly I hoped that I could be forgiven for sins I wanted to commit. I knew that I was going to rebel.
“Yes, as far as I know, you can go to Heaven if God believes that you've repented in Hell.” She explained. Her knowledge of Islam wasn't exactly spot on, but her answers made sense to me because how could one who is all-forgiving, truly not forgive someone in Hell?
“Since people who end up in Hell work for the rest of their lives, is there no end?” I finally asked.
“What? I don't know what you're talking about...” My mother became distracted by my youngest sister's whining.
Suddenly, I felt myself realizing that there was no end. No rebirth, no second-chances, no motivation to grow as a person. Eternity. Eternity. Forever. No end. No beginning. Blackness.
I felt myself imagining the blackness, the eternity in a pit of fire being tortured, and the eternity of sitting by a stream for the rest of my life. Wasn't that what I was doing right then? Just...living? Waiting for death?
“What if the Mayans were right?” I asked, panicking at the thought of finality approaching faster than the speed of light.
“Well then, you have to make sure that you don't do any more bad things. Or try not to. Keep praying, and keep asking God to forgive your mistakes.” She said casually to me.
I could feel my fingers attempt to dig into the glass table, I was young and I finally grasped the idea of eternity. It sounded fun to be immortal for a long time, but now it was the most terrifying thing. The lone light that shined on the table was burning into my skin. Nothing would matter after death, there would only be eternal pain or eternal boredom. The middle horrified me because the goal would just end up being the end point.
“Well I mean you can't get all of your sins forgiven, everyone will just go to Hell.” I reminded her of the obvious fact that everyone made mistakes. Even unforgivable ones.
“If you have more good deeds, then you'll go to Heaven, and God will forgive your sins.” She responded in black and white to me. It was one of the first things I had learned about religion, and one of the first things I must have forgotten.
Slowly I found myself getting angry, and upset. I was put on this planet against my will and now I was supposed to suffer for my mistakes? Repent for situations that would not have even happened if I had a say in my own existence?
Then, the vomit-inducing anxiety attack occurred. I was looking at the clock, hung against a stark-white wall. My head ringing, I was going to exist forever and there was no end. When the world ended, I would still exist, exist, and exist. Whether it was darkness, or some sort of place...I would exist.
I found myself struggling to breathe, I was terrified, angry and on the verge of ripping myself apart. I hate admitting it, but I wanted to mentally disable myself so that I wouldn't have to be mentally “there”.
My mother looked at me, and asked if I was okay. I wanted to cry, I finally realized that I would always be experiencing something, that there was no end. Instead of screaming though, I summed up the courage to lie and avoid drama.
“Yeah i'm fine? What would be wrong with me? I'm gonna go take a nap.” I got up, and walked towards my bedroom. Everything was blue-gray, no one bothered to turn on the lights, and my hallway had the elaborate blue rug that still scrapes my feet in my memories.
Laying on the bed that was left messy from that morning, I looked up at the window. The shrub in front of me was also poisoned by the blue-grey sky. What if I worked hard to do good deeds, and get a better eternity for myself. I thought to myself.
I'm so young, and if 2012 does not happen, I'll still have to keep being good and religious. I did love God right? I feared him, and I wanted to be the best Muslim I could be. Bad habits die hard, and I was only fourteen, saying something was different than doing something. How did others live through this realization? I couldn't possibly be the only who figured out that forever was a bad thing.
It was then, that I realized that life would be easier to endure if I just pretended like my destined fate didn't exist. Ignorance was bliss, and my silence about the future would keep me at peace.
I must have been 14 that afternoon, summer was in the air but I wasn't feeling it. The monotonous day-to-day of summer as a young girl tortured me as I couldn't see anyone I wanted to see. My family became a burden, and a burning in my eyes. Angsty pre-teen with ignorance running through her veins, that was me that afternoon.
My mother and I were sitting at the glass table, it was one of the places where conversation was meaningful and interesting. The couch was cluttered with even more boxes, and I was forced into sitting in the chair to converse with the parental unit I had resented for putting me in this inconvenient situation.
“If you don't obey God, you get sent to Hell. You have to fear Him and follow all the rules.” My mother said during while ripping up her receipts. We had been discussing the Mayan Calendar, and it had been a topic running amuck through my middle school that year. It was summer, and I personally had not stopped talking about it.
“What do you do in Heaven? I mean, you don't have anything to strive for in heaven.” I said to her, skeptical about ever even believing that I would get into Heaven. The aftermath was the most important to me, I didn't care about how I died...just about where I ended up.
“Well, you don't have to worry about anything. You would live forever in peace.” She responded in a simplistic way. It must have been more complicated than that. I felt as if she didn't understand this idea of our afterlife as well as I had.
“Can't God forgive you in Hell and send you to Heaven?” I asked her out of curiosity. Secretly I hoped that I could be forgiven for sins I wanted to commit. I knew that I was going to rebel.
“Yes, as far as I know, you can go to Heaven if God believes that you've repented in Hell.” She explained. Her knowledge of Islam wasn't exactly spot on, but her answers made sense to me because how could one who is all-forgiving, truly not forgive someone in Hell?
“Since people who end up in Hell work for the rest of their lives, is there no end?” I finally asked.
“What? I don't know what you're talking about...” My mother became distracted by my youngest sister's whining.
Suddenly, I felt myself realizing that there was no end. No rebirth, no second-chances, no motivation to grow as a person. Eternity. Eternity. Forever. No end. No beginning. Blackness.
I felt myself imagining the blackness, the eternity in a pit of fire being tortured, and the eternity of sitting by a stream for the rest of my life. Wasn't that what I was doing right then? Just...living? Waiting for death?
“What if the Mayans were right?” I asked, panicking at the thought of finality approaching faster than the speed of light.
“Well then, you have to make sure that you don't do any more bad things. Or try not to. Keep praying, and keep asking God to forgive your mistakes.” She said casually to me.
I could feel my fingers attempt to dig into the glass table, I was young and I finally grasped the idea of eternity. It sounded fun to be immortal for a long time, but now it was the most terrifying thing. The lone light that shined on the table was burning into my skin. Nothing would matter after death, there would only be eternal pain or eternal boredom. The middle horrified me because the goal would just end up being the end point.
“Well I mean you can't get all of your sins forgiven, everyone will just go to Hell.” I reminded her of the obvious fact that everyone made mistakes. Even unforgivable ones.
“If you have more good deeds, then you'll go to Heaven, and God will forgive your sins.” She responded in black and white to me. It was one of the first things I had learned about religion, and one of the first things I must have forgotten.
Slowly I found myself getting angry, and upset. I was put on this planet against my will and now I was supposed to suffer for my mistakes? Repent for situations that would not have even happened if I had a say in my own existence?
Then, the vomit-inducing anxiety attack occurred. I was looking at the clock, hung against a stark-white wall. My head ringing, I was going to exist forever and there was no end. When the world ended, I would still exist, exist, and exist. Whether it was darkness, or some sort of place...I would exist.
I found myself struggling to breathe, I was terrified, angry and on the verge of ripping myself apart. I hate admitting it, but I wanted to mentally disable myself so that I wouldn't have to be mentally “there”.
My mother looked at me, and asked if I was okay. I wanted to cry, I finally realized that I would always be experiencing something, that there was no end. Instead of screaming though, I summed up the courage to lie and avoid drama.
“Yeah i'm fine? What would be wrong with me? I'm gonna go take a nap.” I got up, and walked towards my bedroom. Everything was blue-gray, no one bothered to turn on the lights, and my hallway had the elaborate blue rug that still scrapes my feet in my memories.
Laying on the bed that was left messy from that morning, I looked up at the window. The shrub in front of me was also poisoned by the blue-grey sky. What if I worked hard to do good deeds, and get a better eternity for myself. I thought to myself.
I'm so young, and if 2012 does not happen, I'll still have to keep being good and religious. I did love God right? I feared him, and I wanted to be the best Muslim I could be. Bad habits die hard, and I was only fourteen, saying something was different than doing something. How did others live through this realization? I couldn't possibly be the only who figured out that forever was a bad thing.
It was then, that I realized that life would be easier to endure if I just pretended like my destined fate didn't exist. Ignorance was bliss, and my silence about the future would keep me at peace.
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