The Saints Of Mibba

My head is where I live,
No doubt about it.
I was drawn into this escapade of a fairy tale by the music.
Before I got suck into this I used to cry because I was hit, hurt or because I was just plain moody...
Now I cry because I care.
I've never been in sensed and seen battles like my fellow survivors.
All my battles have been in my head; beliefs, faith, truth and surrendering to the lies drowning this world.

First semester of my third year of high school; at first I thought it would be like any other semester but no...
It came to my notice that my best friend Fatma was beginning to drift away; separate herself from me word by word, heart string by heart string until I realized that she was walking away from me.
Why? My tortured mind would wonder; would cry out to me in the middle of the corridors whenever she turned her away from me and walked away.
I began to doubt, to feel, even to hate myself at some point.
Was it all my fault? Did I lead her away? Did I cause all this?

At this time I had found a haven in another friend; a liar, a fake; a hater. She used the time we spent away from each other to fill the void with more lies and hate. She'd quench my aching sorrow with lies and nurture the hate and irrationality within me.

She made me hate the one person who understood, cared, loved me like no other human being could.
So I hated, and hated and kept hating for three months. Three tear-filled angst tarnished months.

I was left in the dark, confused, lost and hurt most of all.
Fucking hurt.
To top it all off that friend cut herself off my like upon one stupid word.

So there I was; friendless, teary-eyed; a wreck.
The sad thing is that... everyone noticed.
And I kept blocking them out.
It's okay,
It's fine,
Nothing's wrong, no. Nothing...

Bared out smiles, forced out laughs along with forgetfulness.
Human sins, yes?
Not until you come clean.

I texted her one day, asking why she's being like this, where she was the whole semester (as she wasn't around after the first to second after school started) .
"I'll explain." Came her reply.
And I waited for it.
I kept waiting in my bed fearing the worst; I couldn't sleep and think without worry drilling into my thoughts.
What? What if..? What would...?

Questions kept coming until we met up and she explained.
And explained
And explained...
And I cringed, and I cringed, and I cringed...

Until this day I can feel my heart shrink and blacken every time I cry, with each sob an urge to call her and spill out how I kept hating her for three fucking months without questioning what I was given.
Until this day I want to rip out my title as best friend upon remembering how I abandoned her.

When she was sick...

When she was broken...

When she didn't want me to know for my own good.

Do I believe that? It's the heart and thought battle again.
Doubt comes to haunt me once again.
But I bite my lip and hold my tears as I try to hold my guilt each time we cry to each other and spill all our lies and shame to each other's ears.

I still have to live with mine.

I'm no saint; I lie everyday, to myself.
And more importantly her.
I sinned; I can't forgive myself for that.

But I don't know if forgiving the lies and tears I had to vomit through that time was the right thing to do.
I had to scramble in my bed worried while she was in pain leading me on for my own good.

At this point -upon writing this- I've come to the conclusion that I had been broken a little as a result of that dark period.
I'm aware of all the lies that surround us; the amount of people trying to pull the wool over my eyes.
I'm still in doubt now.

Did it make me stronger? Weaker?
Honestly, I don't know. Strength never was an adjective of mine.
Then I came across Mibba...
Back then I wasn't an active user much; no-one knew me but I was taken and welcomed into all of those loving arms.
Now here I am...
Still between those loving arms.

I cry because I care.
Because no-one wants to see their heroes broken as well.
Whether it's their hearts or heads.
I cry because of you now.
For you.

I may have thought that I was abandoned before,
Now I never will...
I'm a liar that's smiling to get your approval.
Not a saint like I'm supposed to be.

I'm still best friends with Fatma but it's a hit-and-run relationship. Throw a couple of harsh words and run, come back to see all the corpses of insults and shouts scraped off the road, laugh again and then resume normal conversations.
The liar is out of my life, I haven't spoken to her only once or twice ever since...

I'm coping with my lies that I graciously cover up with sarcasm and bitter grins.

I have my heroes now, my music, my writing and my Mibba; the loving arms coddling my sanity.
The resort of my heroes,
My saints,

My Mibba saints.