💞 مع الله 💞

كم أحب كل ثانية أمضيها في عبادة خالقي. و كم أحقد على نفسي عندما تراودني زينة الحياة الدنيا. الحديث مع الله لا يمثله شئ و وصفه ربما يوحي بالمبالغة! و لكن يجب أن أعترف: عندما ادعوا رب و أشكو بثي، و حزني، و جميع خواطري، كل هم و أرق يزول. يتبعثر و يفنى حينها! ها أنا أتحدث مع مالك الكون. أشكو للمجيب الذي استوى على العرش. أدعو إلى الرحيم. أدعو إلى مقلب القلوب. أتمنى, و لا أخاف من الاحتمال أنني ربما لم أُعبر بصواب ما هو الذي يجري و يخوض بداخلي لأنني أعلم أنه يعلم، و سيحقق الخير فيما طلبت. أدعوا و الراحة تهمني. أدعوا و أشعر بالتمسك بقوة خارقة. لا أحد يمكنه كسري و تدبير في أمرٍ ضدي لأني أعلم أن لا طالما ها أنا ادعوا، فسبحانه يدبر امري و أنا بأعينه و هو يحميني. الجبار دائماً يجبر بخاطري. ابتسم كل يوم لانه معي. باق و لن يزول حتى و إن ِزلتُ عن هذا العالم الشنيع. و ادعوا أن يرزقني بالنظر إلى وجهه الكريم. أدعو أن يرحمني برحمته التي وسعت كل شئ. أدعو أن لا يحرمني من جنة عرضها كعرض السموات و الأرض. 

Craziness

One day it will happen to you just like it had happened to every man before you-you will fall into a ditch known as love. You'll see her and everyone and everything around you at that moment will be an utter blur. Your friends are teasing you! But you don't mind this time as your mind is captivated by her flawlessness, and so you take one more glance at her and she innocently catches you and you lower your gaze and smile at the ground. That day, you'll indulge in your everyday idiosyncrasies as usual but there's something special about that day that makes what t was a mundane routine full of brightness. And maybe that brightness is the reason why you start to perceive things with a depth you weren't accustomed to. You brush it off for a few hours, days, or maybe months! 

Somehow, Allah does it to you again: it's her, it's that spark, it's that smile you crack again absentmindedly. 

Maybe it's an illusion and maybe it's real. So genuine. Because you can just feel like she felt it too. She smiled to herself too. You saw it. Your mind is a river of flowing thoughts and your heart is pounding like an angry beggar at a rich man's majestic door. 

At that point, it's up to you. Not completely, but you have some say in what happens next. You can pray to Allah to make her yours -against all odds and circumstances! You can do the impossible to get her. So she can be yours and only yours and you can indulge forever in that feeling that you never want eradicated or obliterated or snatched away. You want it and you want it more than anything you've ever wanted. 

Denial. Refusal. Doubts. They're all against it. They'll whisper and scream things like: but you don't know her! You don't know her name or if she's fit for you. She's not the image in your head. How do you know if the feeling is mutual? How could it possibly be? She's too this and not that! 

But your heart speaks gently and lovingly to you while your brain simmers the denial, refusal, and doubts to make all this nonsense stop once and for all. You see her again and your heart says, "Ha I said so!" And your brain points to every other beauty in the room! But it's her your staring at helplessly as she timidly takes a quick glance then goes her way. And it's true; you don't know her, you don't know her name, you don't know if she's fit for you, and you most defiantly don't know if she feels the same or thinks of similar thoughts. 

Your problem conforms to a dilemma. You can't forget her now- at least, you know your heart won't let you! And maybe she'll laugh in your face, reject you, and you'll be the buffoon of the century. But you pray and pray for omens. And they're there; there's no denying that. You get a tranquility sent from the heavens that she's your soulmate and your other half. Although you are one whole person on your own, that changes when she's around and you become a half that needs to be completed. 

And it's true that you don't know those things about her, so you defy all odds and find your means of obtaining every little detail about who she is and what makes her that "her" that you can't help but dream, think, and talk about. The "her" you can't help but love and admire and be infatuated with. So you find out one thing that leads to another. 

And your brain will give in. It will be your heart's assistant. It will soon start simmering hope, faith, and enthusiasm. It will tell you: how do you know that she's doesn't sing about you? How do you know that you don't make her blush all the way home? How do you know that she doesn't feel helplessly in love with you too? 

So you man up with some given courage from the ones who occupied your heart long before she did. 

One day, miraculously, she's in your arms and she's all yours. No one else's but you! She completes you and she tells you that you make her and make her feel whole. You're one then- the both of you! And you smile and rejoice and laugh because of how crazy it all was. Only then is your faith forever restored because Allah answered a prayer you never really uttered but your soul screamed for from the moment you were born.

Sonder

Maybe, the only advantage of traffic jams is the ultra short-term connections we get to experience with strangers!  

Glimpses of strangers' faces leave me in wonder: we are NOT who we are. 

When you meet someone, regardless of the fact that it's your first time meeting them or not, you don't know who they actually are in that present moment. 

You have no clue what their first thought of the day was and how much of a role it's going to play for the rest of it! 

You can try to guess, but you don't exactly know why they're extra edgy or less happy. 

You don't know if they experienced a heartache they've never encountered before. 

 You also don't know what vivid scenes they couldn't help but see during the paradoxical interval of their sleep. 

...............         .............       ...........

You just don't know what anyone is thinking about. 

You don't know how broken hearted they are. 

You don't know how insecure they really are. 

You don't know how obfuscating everything is to them at this time. 

You don't know how aware they are of their flaws and imperfections. 

You don't know how much hate they possess. 

You don't know what peeves them most. 

You don't know what thought is stroking their throats. 

You don't know what feelings are controlling their every move. 

You don't know how much they hate you when you joke about that thing they don't find the slightest humor in. 

You don't know how much they want to change for the better, but the impediments are just so hindering. 

You don't know why they just smiled or smirked. 

You don't know why they lied when they did. 

You don't know what they genuinely meant by what they have uttered so apathetically! 

We never really know who anyone is, no matter how much we cling to the illusion that we do. We'll never be aware of the actual what's, how's, and why's. "Everything is not what it seems." And only Allah knows every creature's true intentions! 

So the next time you lock eyes with a stranger as you both "coincidentally" turn to the window, meet someone new, or encounter a dear friend or family member once again, try being as much of a lesser burden as you can possibly be, and know that you don't know them nor yourself. Because as every second passes by, we change completely to different beings. We are not who we are. We are a different somebody every day. Maybe it's because we all alter, we don't notice it, as our metamorphosis is ever so corresponding.   

Sadness :(

 
Allah has mentioned more than once as a reminder to the believers in his Holy Book to not be sad. Like many things Allah has warned us about, sadness is addicting. It's overwhelming. It's selfish. When it penetrates your ribs and enters your ventricles and atria, it naively begins considering itself as a welcome component of your bloodstream! It only invites more sadness. Sometimes, happiness gets defeated, and that's when sadness is no longer a disregarded embolus, but a necrotic one: DEPRESSION. In the Arabic language, sadness and depression have a marginal difference in that depression is prominent on the infected patient's complexion! When you're sad, your mood is easily converted into something more radiating, but when you're depressed, even a wish that you've been praying for coming true isn't enough to change your mood. A smile is merely recognizable. Good news? WHATEVER. Bad news? WHATEVERRR! And it's the worst thing ever. In this whole entire universe. Nothing can break someone down and transform them into the most mediocre version of themselves than depression. Battling it is itself depressing, which adds more to the invading sadness, and it leaves keloid scars. 

A Single Dimension

Love; it's that word again! I've heard it being used impertinently. I've seen it undermined, exaggerated, underestimated, and taken for granted. It's as if this world has become numb to such an enticing abstract. Maybe we need to give it a new name to truly comprehend what has become nebulous. 

The, nowadays, neglected emotion comes in various shapes and forms. Subtly, you could find it within you. However, during certain intervals of time, it promptly makes itself profound. It doesn't matter what manner it shows up in, but that it's there is what truly matters. 

An old Disney song taught me: " love isn't love till you give it away!" But, is that really the case? Let's take, for instance, the one-sided love that doesn't get its entitled liberty of being reciprocated. 

Sometimes we love inanimate objects such as food, books, and electrical devices. We're aware of their inabilities of loving us back, but we still love them nonetheless. Each and one of us has their favorite spot, place, city, and country. We talk about the love we have reserved in our hearts for them and cherish them as if , they too are mesmerized by our beauty. 

This type of love: only felt by one beating party is the succinct definition of unconditional love. We love the inanimate as if it's utterly animate. Yet, we're unequivocally satisfied that those things will never become animate and loving towards us! 

Furthermore, uni-love is expressed towards humans who might be oblivious to its existence as well. For example, we've all had our favorite author or TV talk-show host! We've all had an unconditional love for a teacher who might've forgotten that we ever sat in their classroom ever so intrigued. We don't necessarily mind that they don't have the same amount of love for us that we bear for them. It's a unique, ubiquitous form of love, and it's beautiful just the way it is. 

Though, usually, this facet of an infinity of emotions is looked down upon. It's the kind that could kill. Sometimes, the fact that he/she doesn't know of your existence and/or the existence of the endless love you have for them gets you agitated. Frustrated. Unassured. Lost in a perpetual stream of thoughts and turbulently tumbling emotions! Instead of a provision of strength and courage predicted to result from love, it leaves you with a desperate self-pity. So, why bother, right? I mean, why would you continue something that you know has a dead end? 

Yes, it's true that this depressing form of love contradicts its meaning and all its previously mentioned forms, but it is still love. It is beautiful. Enchanting. Exciting. Wondrous! 

It's beautiful because that loved human doesn't know how you talk about him/her even if you've never talked to him/her. It's amazing how they could take up a whole chunk of your heart and another chunk of your mind, while you simply know that, even your mere presence isn't marveled upon by him/her. It's exciting because every little thing they do or say could be a potential for the beginning of a love story you already built up from your wild imagination. It's wondrous because of the many what-if's your mind surges to calm your palpitating heart. 

"I was a flight risk with a fear of falling! 

Wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts?" Is one of my favorite Taylor lyrics. These lines ask the inevitable question, which I've been answering to myself in the form of questions due to its unanswerable condescendence! 

Why do we fear falling? Aren't falling and getting back up again the ultimate metaphor for life, anyway? If love doesn't last, does that mean that its departure deprives it of what it once was? Does love ever truly last? Why do we want it to last? Does an ending love only translate to a dooming love? Can love be dooming? .........

Street Club

In a city where the red, yellow, and green traffic lights are usually perceived equally as a "GO!" signal, there are many odd acceptable social standards that one can't just give implausible excuses to. Like, "Oh, maybe they're just colorblind!" We've been living a mediocre life for too long, and no one managed to even halt the deterioration of our adversities; never mind mending and ameliorating the quality of our lives. Hence, they're obviously not supermen in a hurry to save us. 

Which leaves me wondering: why are they in a hurry in the first place? What is this thing that they're planning on doing that can't even wait for- literally- seconds? 

So lets layout some truths that many Libyans have just accustomed to sugar-coating so they can go on with their mediocrities and not have something else to huff and puff at. Most of these impatient drivers are actually showing up at faculties of universities to jam-pack their parking lots. Others park in front of high schools. Long story short, they're just showing up at a place where there happens to be girls walking by so they can treat themselves with hours of eye-candy (which are prettily wrapped if you ask me!).

Now, if you're a non-Libyan or a descendant of this cursed desert, but hasn't lived here for long enough, you will probably find what I'm pointing out and claiming is a social hazard is nothing but gibberish, incomprehensible talk, but you're not the one to be blamed! -Nevertheless, just continue reading. 

Yes, there are Libyan "men" of various ages, social 

and educational standards, and castes who spend their afternoons  going out just so they can stand in their favorite spot for catcalling and harassing their fellow Libyan ladies as they walk home after a long day at school or as they inevitably stroll and rush down the hallways of whatever faculty they chose to struggle at. ( Regardless of the weather. Whether it's cold and the roads are transformed into dirty puddles or during the summer when there's overwhelming, blistering humidity.) 

They stare and stare. They never get enough of it, although I'm not sure what it is that they get! Some have those perverted  stares that would leave you with disgust. Others blurt out words which indicate the lowness of their IQ! The beginners at this low-life lifestyle are always the most pathetic. They would shout things at you until you disappear into the distance, without ever giving up hope that you'll helplessly fall in love with them right there and then and give up everything that you can to be with them from that moment of them making a complete fool of themselves in the public eye and not giving a damn to forever. Maybe, they're not really hoping for anything at all. I mean, they're probably the most hopeless creatures of this land. Moreover, their actions are nothing but a function of their most impulsive instincts. 

However, what makes an adult human beg for the attention of a complete stranger and just completely shrug it off seconds later after that stranger rolls their eyes as they hasten their pace, if not cuss out of utter frustration? It's so disturbing to see a man being disrespectful and ignorant on such an unprecedented level to me. Not only are they being an annoyance to all the women they harass, but it makes them look almost non-human. There's a saying in my country that has a literal translation of: so and so fell from my eyes. And thanks to those many men standing in rows and groups smirking at girls and tilting their heads so much just to get a glimpse made realize where that saying came from. 

You'd think that these men are nobodies, but they're not. That's the problem. These are educated people. Scientifically educated, I should clarify. On more than one instance, I'd see a post about a guy on a Facebook page that people share so many times in celebration of his graduation, or I'd witness "his" graduation party firsthand. Then, just a few days later find myself observing that same guy in the hallways staring and participating in a loathsome manner that somehow became normal. "He's looking for a bride!" Is the most mind-boggling excuse I've seen girls spread around! And there's many similar excuses they can give themselves like, " Oh it's just an hour or two of getting our mind off things." But it's not like that. Not at all.  

 

Besides, this mindless, reckless act of getting up, dressing up and trying too hard, and driving to just stand there is more harmful to those men than it is beneficial in many aspects. 

Religiously speaking, it's sinful from many perspectives. For starters, there's a verse of the holy Quran in Surat A-Noor that states :"Say to the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty: that will make for greater purity for them: And Allah is well acquainted with all that they do." Lowering your gaze is a challenge, and you might be forgiven for not doing it enough and properly. However, having it as your priority for those hours, and smirking and laughing with friends as you point out each girl that flattered your eyesight indicates the magnitude of your apathy towards the command of your lord, which is just plain wrong. In addition, I hear the call to prayer (Athaan) sometimes, and I don't see any of them going to any nearby mosques to be a part of their obligatory congressional prayers. Literally ignoring prayers for the sake of staring. But, then again, it's those same boys who go online on groups and pages preaching about religion and about how girls should and shouldn't dress. Furthermore, wasting time is also sinful in Islam, and they're doing just that. From a worldly point of view, they are unequivocally privileged folks who don't have to work the entire day to make ends meet, so shouldn't they invest their extra money and time in improving a country that is desperate for improvement; any kind of it? Here's the thing: standing there like weirdos while doing nothing useful when you could use it anyhow in developing the education, healthcare, and/or economics of Libya shouldn't just be rebuked, but in my country's case should be considered as an act of treason!

I stopped giving people excuses that I would never give myself under any circumstances. 

Personally, I believe it's an epidemic! I would love to sit here and type all the excuses I could think of that would justify their horrendous acts, but I'm not going to do that. 

They can go and spend that afternoon at a mosque praying for our country's revival, and memorizing and looking into the meaning of our Holy book. There are volunteer clubs that could be initiated. There are books to be written about our life. And a gargantuan amount of projects to get done. 

All in all, our Libyan society is palpably more pitiful toward the male population in many aspects. This one fact is the reason behind all those standing there wasting their time with the excuse that their country isn't providing enough "get-aways" for them as it supposedly should. But I will end my ranting with a quote that stuck around with me from the moment I heard it, " Ask not what your country can do for you! Ask what you can do for your country!" - President Kennedy. 

Someone

I desire the presence of someone whose name I'm oblivious of! Someone whose name doesn't ring a bell. A someone with a name that I haven't subconsciously stereotyped as a result of interactions with previous someones. You know, what? I don't even want to be able to recognize this awaited someone's last name. 

A total newness. 

I want a language that will connect us both, and I want to be illiterate in the second language that I'll be intrigued by as I hear Someone speak it. I desire an unfamiliar sort of laughter as I hear my new favorite sense of humor. I yearn for a closeness and endless disclosures that aren't accompanied by tenaciousness.  

I crave a reality with someone that has long been a longing. 

" الاثم"

دخل إلى المطعم الذي كان يتناول فيه العشاء كل آن و حين مع زوجته- بوحده ذلك اليوم ليلتقي معها مرة أخرى. هذه المرة سيحدد مصيره مع زوجته التي تخاصمت معه منذ أشهر عندما علمت أنه خانها. 

أتت قبلهُ. كانت جالسة لوحدها في مكانهما المفضل. كانت مبتسمة عندما أطلق زوجها السلام فهي كانت تفكر في حديث بينهما عندما كانا واقعيين في الحب و الغرام و تلك التفاهات. "و عليكم السلام." ثم ضحكت. 

مبتسمة و تضحك؟ هي دائماً هكذا. معه. لا يستطيع التنبأ بما ستقوله أو تفعله. 

"ههههه" نظر إليها و ابتسم كعادته عندما ينظر إليها. "السلام! هذا ما كنت افكر به. هذا ما أردته عندما تزوجتك. و لن انكر أنني قدت تحصلت عليه لمدة من حياتي  و لكن أصبحت لا أدرك ما هو. كل شئ بعالمي أصبح ضجيج. تشوهت أفكاري. مشاعري أصبحت شرسة. أبكي حتى ينهار بدني من البكاء و لا تقدر غددي على إفراز المزيد من الدموع المالحة التي تحرق وجهي و هي تتساقط كالمطر." 

رد عليها و هو متردد: 

"ظننت أنكِ..."

"و أنا أيضاً ظننت الكثير و الكثير بك. و لم يكن ظن السوء. لم يكن إثما. كنت أظن انك تحبني. "

" فعلا أنا أحبك "

قالت و هي متقززة: " و العياذ بالله من حب كهذا. أتعلم أن  ضميري يأنبني لأنني أتحدث معك و أعلم ان هناك امرأة تنتظرك؟" 

" لا تقولي هذا"

" و لما لا؟" 

 ... 

"هههه" تلك الضحكة المستفزة مجددا.  

ثم استمرت:

" تذكرت الآن أول شعر كتبته لك و كم كنت تحب أن أرتله لك. دعني أرتله لك للمرة الأخيرة. "

لم يقل شيئا فهو كان لشوق لسمعها و هي تجعل الكلمات تحرك مشاعره. 

"                 حبيتك

 احببتك و لم اعرف لماذا 

من انت ؟ و ما هذا ؟ 

دخل و أنتشر حبك في قلبي 

و كم من مرة سألت ربي

ان تكون انت رفيق دربي 

احببتك و لم اعرف متى 

و لكن انت ،انت يا فتى 

تتجول في أحلامي 

و في عيناك سكينتي و أماني 

ليتك ثابتاً أبدا في قلبي و دعائي و أحلامي "  

ها هي و كلماتها تأثر فيه من حيث لا يحتسب و تجعله يشعر بالذنب."أسف على كل شئ!"

" لا تتأسف. فقدت كسرت قلبي و خواطري."

" أنا.."

"انت إنسان وقع في حب امرأة أخرى عندما كان يجب عليك ان تستمر في الوقوع في حبي لكي تستكشف أعماقه. جعلت عيناك مكاناً أخاف منه و أتعمد الهروب منه. 

أعترف انك ستبقى ثابتا في قلبي و دعائي و أحلامي و لكن ليس بالطريقة التي تمنيتها."

" لم أقصد..." قطعت جملة أخرى من كلامه الذي لم يتبقى له أي من الاعتبار عندها...

" لا تبالي. لن تراني بعد اليوم إلا بصدفة قد قدّرها ربي. أتمنى لك السعادة معها و بلغها سلامي."  

"و لكن ؟..."

حاولت ان تضحك للمرة الأخيرة و لكن انهارت أمامه بالبكاء و خرجت من المكان التي قسمت أن لن تدخل اليه إلى الأبد. 

College Life in Libya ~ Part VI

By Nuha Dadesh

Fluctuations.  

The ides of march rolled around once again in my life, and it also happened to be the ''ides'' of my college journey.

Flashbacks would remind me of how my beautiful campus was once eerie and formidable. I was new; everything around me was new. Nevertheless, day by day, it began transforming into a familiar, nostalgic haven! I started to blend in. I befriended many who allowed me to balance between my Libyan and Americanized selves. I learned about drugs and everything related to them, and in the processes of memorizing and comprehending, I was always astonished by the workings of the human brain. I've come to know that the brain changes its structure every time we learn something new, and I'm not figuratively speaking when I say this: I felt mine alter. Therefore, it penetrated my likings and became the dominant one. 

During one of my Physiology lectures, Dr.Feras reckoned, "the third year is what we call the 'neck of the bottle', and passing it means passing pharmacy school!"- which instantly prompted a prospect drawn in the back of my mind. 

There I was, walking down the corridors of my faculty- each triggering thoughts of the countless memories made-on yet another first day. The struggle of squeezing through the "neck of the bottle" approached, and I was ready for it with all the faith in the world in Allah (SWT). The lectures were light and simple. Not so complicated. 

The following weeks consisted of further lectures and labs. The lectures were dull just like the auditorium in which they were held. My Pharmaceutical Technology lecturer allowed a five-minute break during her second lecture, and I ended up extending that break to the end of the semester. There were slides on the projector screen, and a number of the lecturers were reading them out loud for us without any enthusiasm whatsoever. 

A few of the lecturers, however, actually tried to add some zest into the curriculum by cracking jokes. Dr.Eluzi made us laugh during his two-hour lecture, but his humor was the Libyan kind: dark humor.  It stung me every time I heard, "But not in Libya!", which became a suffix to most sentences that mentioned advancements in our field. 

It was depressing. A lot of things were depressing. 

Depression was overtly sweeping the country, and there was little effort left for resisting it. Moreover, people have been through so much humiliation and downgrading. The situation gets worse before it gets a bit better, then less worse, and right back to so much worse than expected. The vicious cycle of our lives here in Libya. 

There's also the denial that's always simultaneously present that allows for fake smiles and laughs, which daunt the creeping sadness. 

One can't be insentient towards such a sensible reality. In addition, the inflation caused the prices of the sheets to rise noticeably! The prices of everything rose noticeably. Consequently, the needed medications and instruments in the labs weren't always available so we had to compensate one way or another. The unpredictability of all matters itself was depressing. 

But, we didn't have time for depression nor for feelings to ponder at; we had to study and study so we can get the unforgiving amount of information crammed into our subservient brains. 

Once we take our first quiz of the semester, we don't really get a break from being tested till we dreadfully take our final final exam. The domino effect. And we really do feel like we're dominoes falling down uncontrollably. Again, I wasn't figuratively speaking when I said that. 

The exams were NOT simple. The subjects weren't simple. Each one of them needed willpower to study and lots of assistance from CNS stimulants to get memorized. ( No, not amphetamines! I meant coffee and tea.) 

The exam hall was originally set up as a cafeteria but never got to being one for God knows what reason. I've ascended the stairs that led up to the aforementioned hall countless times, thus it lost its frightfulness.

Unlike the testing hall, the Montada was a place I felt comfortable in. Regardless of its paleness and cluttered brownish tables and swirly chairs, it was a place to hang out in after a long lab or a tedious lecture. Unfortunately, we were barred from it for most of this semester due to its utilization as another testing hall! Also, there were sudden security measures taken to protect the university so there were checkpoints at entrances, and since our faculty's security guards weren't available, they locked the gate that connected us with the adjacent Medicine department, which we went to regularly because it had what our faculty lacked: cafeterias and a library. There was another route that led to the Medicine department, but it was the equivalent of a walk through the desert, and we'd end up with an enormous headache by the time we got there and back to our faculty. Hence, we were like refugees in our own place. 

Maram, Farah, and I's refuge was under the shadows of a huge tree centered in the middle of the pretty grass area. We did everything under that tree. We reviewed whatever we could before an imminent exam. We ate there and had many of our endless hysterical euphoria! We talked and worked on our lab reports. In addition to memories made that are forever engraved in my mind, Maram and I even cried under that tree when I finally worked up the courage to ask her about the passing of her beloved brother and she told me, in explicit detail, about the event that changed her life forever. I even made a new friend in that area which everyone got accustomed to calling "the pharmacy cat." But I believed she deserved a better name so I started calling her "Serotonin" because she was my personal antidepressant. Her nickname was "5-HT."

The holy month of Ramadan commenced halfway through the mundane semester. Ramadan had a way of making itself prominent, thus the vibes at the faculty changed almost instantly. Firstly, the hallways were fairly empty since it was difficult to roam the hallways idly while abstaining from foods and drinks. The ones who showed up were there because they needed to be there. The ladies that managed to show up tended to wear more religious and modest clothing. And their chatting became about cooking malfunctions and triumphs while sharing recipes. Furthermore, the desire to achieve both academic and religious goals was somewhat stressful, but verses from the Quran always left me calmer and assured:" We have not sent down to you the Qur'an that you be distressed. But only as a reminder for those who fear [ Allah ] " -Surat Ta-Ha.Regardless of the fact that we were less active and sleepier than usual, we managed to get through the many lab finals after laborious, sleepless days and nights of studying. 

Rumors spread about high school seniors being tested in universities instead of their classrooms as an initiative to eradicate the cheating epidemic. Since the education ministry ordered that we shall not be present at our faculty while they were testing, we had to reschedule our finals. At first, our board decided that our finals should start two weeks earlier than planned. The lecturers were frustrated while they attempted to complete the dense curriculum. We were infuriated as our studying plans were scuttled. I made a lot of schedules that were planned hour by hour of how I was going to study for my finals but ended up rearranging and scribbling over them countless times. I reached the brink of many breakdowns, but my faith restored some willpower to continue. The student council came up with a prudent idea that suggested beginning our finals only a week earlier, halting them while the seniors tested, and continuing them afterward. We agreed to it, but it had consequences on many who had plans for the summer. For instance, our friend Narjes's wedding was to begin on the first of August, which coincided with the Hospital Pharmacy final. Her positivity didn't allow her to complain one bit, though! 

The awaited finals came. With them, of course, came the cursed power cuts! It was getting hot. The humidity of July was unbearable. Studying sometimes felt like torture. I would get my stuff set up in the garden for a bliss of breeze. But, I'd go back inside when the electricity comes back on, and just when the room cools off a bit, the electricity would go out again; I would, then have to decide whether I should pick up my sheets to go out again or stay inside and melt. 

My high school sister was also being tortured as she eagerly non-stop studied for her finals also. We'd only allow specified minutes for chats and spread out in different rooms to study. 

Farah would call and text to check up on me and we'd chat, and after she makes me feel better and less stressed, I go back to studying. I remember I called Maram before the dreaded Pathology final, and she answered with, "Nuha, I'm on page six of the curriculum!" I burst out laughing because I was also so far behind and was experiencing an episode of neurosis. 

The entire time I was thinking what Shakespeare said, " All is well that ends well." And I prayed and prayed that it'd end well. 

On the awaited first of August, we took our last final and hurried down those stairs ever so joyful. Maram, Farah, and I went home as fast as we could so we could get ready for the wedding party. We had a blast during the two days of the wedding ceremony as we celebrated our dear friend's big day with the rest of the gorgeous pharmacy ladies. 

It ended very well, and we didn't mind all the downs we've been through that led up to that awesome leap of joy!