Out From The Norm. From Darkness To Light.

      Much is awkward and amiss when things seem different in the endogenous and exogenous factors, from within your deepest self and from the view of outside, of others when they see you in their light, through the eyes that they see you through. Awry is the mind when it traverses into realms untapped and boggling. When it reaches to far off distant planes which are foreign and unusual. Insanity is as if the only reality that encircles the mind.
      I was born in 1992 into a religious family of six. I am the third out of the four. The middle child. We lived in a condominium last time when me and my siblings were little. Sound pollution was normal, not much could be done if you live in the cities. And if not the sound of exploding tires, car-crashes and the sirens from ambulance. I would hear shouting from above on the side and in where I was staying. It almost as if it became normal to me. I would hear above the neighbour hitting his child while his child screams. "Ma it hurts! It hurts! Stop ma." And from the side, I would here the dilemma of husband and wife affairs, the wife unsatisfied with the husband. He had another family, so I'd heard. Funny how old people gossip and it reaches into the children's ears. Many do children absorb from what the elderly thinks we don't know. I pity the children whom they possessed, having to see all the shouting and fighting. And as for my family, it was, well - almost the same. And so all four of us grew up in this kind of environment. Living our daily lives. And I thought, you know? It's normal. Everyone has their own hurdles and dilemmas to deal with. Maybe it's good that I got to know it at firsthand. I can't help but laugh to this thought.
Ah the primary school days. Those were the days I'd hated going to things called 'schools' to 'study'. Or maybe I was that way since kindergarden? I wouldn't know, couldn't remember.
      Comparison was a new thing in primary school, I'd never tried to differentiate myself with others much before. But when people keep stating out the 'facts'. You'd be surprised on how a child can become confused of himself as time goes on. Almost insane. Standard four was where the teachers started comparing me with my other siblings since my performance weren't as good as them. "Look at your brother, his the head prefect and gets good grades. Why can't you be like him?" Mrs.Bala would mutter and scold me. But seriously, I would say that at that time my grades were good, well at least for my level. Four A's and one B for my main exam. Somehow it is the nature of people to compare one person to the other when especially if you're related by blood. And blood is ever thicker than water. She was one angry discipline teacher. Whoever got her as a mother would be doomed I'd say hahaha. And so my black sheep story follows in an episodic manner.
      It wasn't until I was fourteen that my parents really got into 'comparing' me in a stern way. My dad started becoming more judgmental and criticised every mistake I'd make to make it apparent to me. My siblings were straight A students I was doing good through form one, but at form two, suddenly my grades got lower. I got lazier, more lethargic and I had problem focusing. And my parents more prone to anger and criticism. Damn, I know that there were many good times somewhere, but I can't seem to remember much. "You're stupid, you're going to grow up as trash." Dad would complain saying the words without looking at me, sharp and without any feeling into it. "Your siblings are doing good, what happened to you?" And he'd remind me about these things time to time as if to nail it hard in my head. As if to engrave it and embed it deeply in my mind so that I would remember. In school at that time I brought the Islamic principles that my parents had had taught me mostly which was 'praying'. Our school was in the evening for our badge, so we had to pray the evening prayer at school. I would invite my other friends along with us. But I did it because my parents said so. Not because I believed in God. I still hadn't understand things.
      My eldest brother had always bullied me since I was a kid. I was somewhat scared of him, and hence we never really talked. Plus we were years apart. I was like his punching bag when his angry other than mom and dad. Of course my parents get mad at my other siblings too, but they didn't get the 'sugar icing' of juxtaposition. My second brother went off to boarding school when he first reached high school. And my little sister well, she's alright. The only girl, the youngest. My uncle had told me that my second brother was mom's favourite. You can only get these things when you talk to your other relatives. And I wasn't surprised to hear. He's the smartest of us all. The kindest, very soft-spoken. He is two years older than me, not very much of a gap. But he being always away, we didn't really had time to bond together although I always wanted to. He was the one who taught me to smoke when I was twelve haha. He's a good fellow. But in the teenage years. We rarely talked. Even when we smoked together on our rooftop, he wouldn't say a word. I wouldn't know why.
     At times mom seemed like the possessed Hulk. She could be one person at one time and another person at the other. Her moods fluctuated a lot. Maybe its menopause. I had even diagnosed her with bipolar disorder when I was seventeen. She just couldn't seem to pass the day without shouting at someone.. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Mom once said while slapping me incessantly in the face when I was fifteen. I had forgotten to take my sneakers from our old condominium, we had moved at that year. But despite all the dissimilarities that they often point out and despite mom's quick to rage personality I didn't even shot back at them, I was passive. I bottled everything up. And time to time at dinner, they would remind me of my bad performance and of how different I was. They tried to help me by tutoring me personally. But with them always reminding me that I'm stupid every time I can't answer a simple math problem really didn't help much. How the hell could I have liked that? So I decided not to study with them. I started smoking cigarettes quite heavily, getting into troubles in school, skipping school and classes, fighting and what not. And in doing all these things of course made my parents ever indignant of me. I had friends but never really bothered to really communicate, to get close, I just didn't have that 'feeling' to bond with another soul. It was lost somehow. I thought that it was normal, it's just me. The way I am. 
      "You don't mean anything to me anymore." Dad had said over the phone. I asked if he could pick me up one day after my outing with friends that evening after school and he had asked me to get my own transport. It struck my heart, but in the end I felt indifferent. I didn't care. I also remembered when we were in Mecca to perform our pilgrimage at the end of the year of sweet fifteen. Dad had been torturing my mind still there in the Holy Land. Saying "You're quite stupid." a few times in a mocking tone. I stood silent. There was an important final exam that all of us had to take that year. I had gotten my results there. I only had achieved one A for my english. My dad and brother mocked me. The same words when I was fourteen. "You're stupid," said dad. "Damn right he is." added my eldest brother. "It's okay you'll just work as a trash collector when you grow up." Continued dad with some more. "That's all his capable of." My brother said glaring at me with distasteful eyes. Mom just stared with sorry eyes, she didn't say anything. 'I hate you guys' said I somewhere behind the back of my mind and left the hotel room to walk alone around the Holy Land. They had always been talking to me like I have a big problem. Their eyes would often be the glares which I dislike. The glares of disappointment. And that I was. Always a disappointment to them. In school and apparently too at home.
      At age sixteen I started doing marijuana and in mid year of high school, I got kicked out from school because I had collected enough 'merit' points. The teachers kept track on merit points of delinquent students. Like criminals with records being kept by the police. And if we reached enough of the amount in our accounts. You'd just get kicked out. I moved to another school. Most of the people from my new school were from my primary school friends. It's been awhile since I had last seen them. But despite having knowing them, I didn't bother to talk much, or more like I couldn't. Normal conversations it seemed to have become laborious for me at this stage. Depression was getting the best of me. My classmates were mostly new friends that I'd never met before. I was in art class, the class considered to be for the students with low performance. I could tell by the way teachers looked at me. I had always hated how the education system evaluates us based on test results. It felt like confinement to me. I'd just sleep all day in class. I didn't even knew who the new language teacher was since I'd sleep before her arrival and throughout her class. So it continues until I finished school. I got one lousy A for english again for my main exam. It was the exam all parents and students was hoping for so much. Like as if your life depended on it. And as for me, I didn't care much. But deep down inside me. I started feeling that as if there was something wrong with me. Or else mom and dad wouldn't be that way. I was the problem I had said quietly inside my mind. Something was just wrong.
      School ended and I went to college. Dropped out. I worked for a few months. Then I started drinking and doing pills. The environment at home was ever the same. I began to question God. Why are they, these religious parents who knows a lot about God seems so unsatisfied with life and me? I did pills and a few other drugs. Sometimes I take them together. I'd just get high everyday, my condition was worsening and I started having delusions. I couldn't think straight anymore. While at the same time I had became interested in psychology. I was interested in knowing about the things that happens and goes around in our very minds. Everything must start from inside there right? And something inside me was just reaching out, something inside me was looking for answers to questions that I don't even know. I stopped praying, I became upset. I felt ever more empty inside. I looked for a girlfriend then thinking that It would soothe the emptiness, but it did nothing.. And after a week I just simply broke up with her. I continued partying and going to clubs. Just chilling and doing nothing with friends except for smoking drugs. I remember taking too many pills that I had felt like as if my brain was about to burst. It was an addiction that had crept over me. I developed a somewhat destructive behaviour. I had loved to drive the car under the influence. I would go drifting with some friends time to time while intoxicated.
       Then as time went by reality seemed further away. As if I was possessed by a demon. I had became more rebellious than ever. I read about schizophrenia and things such as bipolar disorder. I was looking for a solution, indirectly I was trying to fix myself. The problem. And one day when my mom was shouting at me, "You have the devil's eyes! My mom shot at me." I forgot what she was mad about but I remember that I had beckoned mom to leave my room and banged the door before her. I had suddenly burst. I went berserk. I couldn't take it anymore. It was the first time I had ever did such a thing. Normally I would just keep it all bottled up. I trashed my room, breaking my guitar and lamp, maybe mom really did see the devil in my eyes. I left the house and drove the car out without having a license and without even caring to get permission from my parents. I shot off with the car and went out to smoke more drugs and came back home very late at night. My dad had tied the door with ropes so that I couldn't get in.
      And I don't remember when exactly, but I think it was the next day, I got into a car accident, and what a weird event it was. Me and two friends went out to the fields to drink. My memory stopped there after I drank a whole bottle of Vodka Moscovi and another quarter bottle. My friends sent themselves back for I couldn't drive I supposed. Then I drove back home alone, I drove half way back with my brain on auto pilot. I had thought to myself the next day. I must seemed like normal for my friends to let me drive back home, or maybe they didn't even care and was too drunk themselves to actually drive me back home. I hit a tree at maybe about 120 km/h. The tree was on the left, but the side that got hit was on the right, which was the driver's side. The side which I was on. I had made a 360 degree spin. Most of the memory of that event was from people that I don't know who had pulled me out from my car. And meeting them was also coincidentally, or more accurate - fate. I didn't get even a single scratch. Allah had saved me, my dad kept on reminding me that I was supposed to die looking at the condition of my car. I remember me talking with a guard in one of the neighbourhood who was guarding a few hundred metres away from my car. My mom said that I had asked the guard whether if he had seen my car. You can imagine how drunk I was. I only remembered the part where I asked for his cigarette that he was smoking at that time. And then my parents and brother arrived. I remember asking the guard whether if the person who was actually my brother standing infront of me whether if he is my brother. And the guard said "Yes, yes his is your brother." With an annoyed tone. An unruly and emotionally unstable drunk kid who suddenly came asking where his car was. Who wouldn't be annoyed. And then I went into the car, and my consciousness again dispersed.
      I remember later I was in the hospital in the emergency room, with the nurses pushing me on one of the carts. I remember muttering out some of the drugs that I had taken in my life. I remember blurting two of them out while still on the cart. "Ganja, Cofdec...". And then loosing my consciousness again, on and off. It's funny when I write it all back down from memory. But the next day after that event happened It wasn't at all funny. I had a concussion, my head was aching from the alcohol and the accident. After that day, It was weird. My parents didn't scold me. I think it was the things I had blabbered while I was unconscious and drunk. My mom said I wanted to kill myself. I had that thought before but of course I knew I wasn't going to do it. Alcohol really has the nature of tapping into your subconscious. My mom tried to hug me, but i didn't hug her back that night after the night of the accident. My anger and frustration on them had been repressed inward.
      Oddly, one day, while I was chilling with my cousin and one friend at this cafe. One of the guys who had pulled me out from my car had saw me. I had a concussion and I had no memory of whosoever that had gotten me out. He was just staring at me. Looking from a distance with a stare of familiarity. I just stared back unknowing that he was one of my saviours. He came closer and said "Hey, you're the guy that I pulled out from the car that night" and I with a face perplexed beckoned him to sit with me for awhile to tell me what had happened. He asked me also whether I was doing any cocaine at that time. I said no, I wasn't doing any anyway. He showed me the picture of my car at first. Then he continued saying that while they were pulling me out I abruptly moved and fell on the ground. Then I got up again and was saying "I'm okay, I'm okay." He said that I started hitting my head on my car shouting absurd things. And then I shot off and ran telling them not to call the cops. And left my car there for them to see.
After that event I became as if more insane. I didn't talk with anyone. I had lost my friends.
      My mom stopped yelling and my dad stopped his criticism, its as if they knew that they had did something wrong. And that accident had confirmed it. I was eighteen at that time. I inwardly felt guilty as well for getting caught doing drugs and drinking moreover for the fact that my family was religious and I being the child who deviated. I just sat at home after that, looking at videos and reading more about psychology on my laptop. I read about mental illnesses, and had found a quote by Dr.Thomas Szasz, Professor Emeritus of Psychiatry at the State University of New York Health Science Center in Syracuse, New York, which he stated: "The struggle for definition is the struggle of life itself." That quote was like an epiphany. I didn't know who I was, and the comparison of my parents on me had made that ever more confusing throughout my teenage years. My faith in God at that time was very much gone. I questioned Him, even though now I know that He shouldn't be questioned. Then I looked at videos about Islam and religion. My parents had taught me a few things about religion, but they didn't teach me everything. The other things I had discovered myself. Or really it was like rediscovering. My consciousness of God had evaporated, had absconded, I had realised that my pain had got the best of me. I found the videos pertaining about the end of times. About the true history of this world. My heart suddenly conceived fear. It was looking for peace. Ever in need of it. The peace that I couldn't find. That I couldn't get from my family, friends nor from having a relationship. 
      I started gaining knowledge about religion Islam and the Holy Book, The Qur'an the speech of Allah, the Bible, the Torah. I compared them altogether. The fear had compelled me, I began to come with an understanding. Slowly I began to learn about the purpose of life. All this universe, moving living creatures before us. The water, trees and sustenances that we have on this plain earth is God given. I began to learn what we are really here for. And suddenly one day I found God, Allah but under a different light. Very much different. Allah said in the Qur'an;
“Did you think that We had created you in play (without any purpose), and that you would not be brought back to Us?”
[Al-Mu’minoon 23:115]

      I had always been asking myself why am I here and who I am. Why do I have to study? Why do people work? Just to gain material things and then die? No - There must be something more. Not that all that is not important but there was something bigger. And I had found it after I started praying again, when I had put my head to the ground I felt peace like never before. And while I was reading and leafing through the Qur'an I had found something that just touched me and moved me. Allah said in His magnificent speech that
"Truly, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest."
[Ar-Ra'd 13:28]

      Islam the true religion. The religion of Peace, the religion of Allah and His Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him, whose the greatest man alive. I had muttered to myself in my mind. Even Michael H.Hart had said so through his research. And he was a Christian and he had put Jesus third in line. Truly this must meant something. Even to the eyes of he who is from another religion. I now have a purpose, I now found a new meaning of life. When my intellectual was lower than my other siblings I thought I was useless. My parents disapproved me. I now know that even parents make mistakes when they are busy trying to find whats best for you. But in the end only Allah, the God Almighty knows whats best for each and everyone of us.
"And it may be that you dislike a thing which is good for you and that you like a thing which is bad for you. Allah knows but you do not know."
[Al-Baqarah 2:216]

      And now I am still continuing my life. Still struggling with problems. But my mindset is slightly different. Rather than being negative all the time. I try my very best to please my Creator. The one who had guided me from the darkness to light.
“And He found you lost and guided you.”
[Ad Duha 93:7]

      I will end my story with a poetry that I have written when I was in search of truth. And I thank you very much to whoever took the time to read this. And I hope that It will help you somehow and in someway. And I pray that Allah will guide you from darkness to light. Know that Allah is the creator of the heavens and the earth. The one true God whom we should worship. While death is a certainty that binds unto each and every living breathing soul that walks upon His earth. I call you to Islam. I call you to Allah whom has created you. And know that Allah, He is the-Almighty, The All-Wise, The Most-Merciful, Oft-Forgiving. His Mercy encompasses the heavens and the earth. And unto Him shall be our return.

Mind be varied my endeavour,
I reside in between the strings of a puppeteer,
And you in me on a distant moor,
Just come back as how you were before.







Unnorm Unnorm
18-21, M
Jan 21, 2013