These Shoes are Made for Walking

bismillah.

I know. The title is so like, duh! And it has nothing to do with Jessica Simpson's song.

You know what I've been feeling these past couple of weeks?

duh, of course not!

i'm no mind-reader.

why do you think people even READ your blog?

Okay. I know I have a TERRIBLE little-me inside myself.

Anyways, I feel like I'm Fat Jane (i don't even know what it means. heck, i don't know if the term exists!) cause I spend most of my time, sitting in front of the computer, finishing documents and stuffs. But an average Joe needs more than 10000 steps a day! I only got, what, like, forty-seven everyday, up and down the stairs?

Phew~ and yesterday I finally gathered up the strength and the might that Allah lent me for a while to get up from the bed I've been lying on for more than the average sleeping hours trying to shake the pain off, and alhamdulillah, I DID IT! I got out of bed, out of chair, out of the house!

To those willing to still read this post, I wanna share what I've seen today. Because what I enjoy most about trips are the journey. I don't understand much why people get so devoted in "getting there" than "going there". okay anne, you really have a way to make people understand what you're saying. le sigh 

Anyways, I took a train to get to the bookshop I was heading to. It's called ImanShoppe. You can check it out here. My dad dropped me off on his way to his office at the nearby station. The thing is, I totally forgot to bring extra money for the journey. I was hoping that the station would have an ATM machine so I can take some $10 from my account.

But, no ATM.

Then I thought, "hey, I still got a few bucks left in my Touch n' Go card" and as I swiped it, then the machine told me that my card is not legit. Whattt?

The nearest ATM I guessed was a 20 minute walk away from the station, and I wasn't in the mood to spend that time searching for the ATM machine. So, with full hope, I dug into my pocket, got my wallet (yes, i don't use purses like normal woman/girl/lady does) and opened it. And guess what I found?

Money.

It wasn't much. It was barely enough for the to-and-fro trip, but I was grateful. I was literally laughing when I found that money. Cause I was sure I emptied it the day before. So, Allah saved me. Check. Thank You :)

The platform wasn't marked, and I had a feeling in my gut that I was standing at the wrong platform. But I didn't budge. Ego.

When I got into the train, and waited for the announcement for the next destination, I was sure. I was on the wrong platform. So I spent another 20 minutes exchanging trains, trying to get to the right destination.

Well, the journey back was smooth sail, but when I got to the meeting point where my dad told me to go, he called and told me he was watching the 'dragon dance' in front of the mall. So, I was searching for him, when all the while he was still in his office. 

BUT, here comes the point where I'm adding details. If you know me, (or don't) I am an avid observer. So, here goes.

When I was waiting for the train on the station my dad dropped me off, I saw a young man. With a limp. From his face, I could see that he was in pain. But he still walked anyways.

These past couple of days, I wasn't feeling well. I wasn't ill. Just unwell. And because of that, I couldn't go to appointments, and programmes, and didn't eat. I could move, but I find it easier not to. Easily put, lazy.

When I got to the wrong station, I got out and saw a woman. She was young, and her face showed emotions like, she was singing her heart out (she got her headphones on) but she was actually talking on the phone. I went to the other side of the rail, and as I waited for the other train to arrive, I spent that 20 minutes finishing my recitations. The station was pretty quiet, and I realised there was a Muslim cemetary right in front of me. Then suddenly, I heard someone cry.

*suspense sound*

It was actually the woman on her headphones. I didn't know why she cried, but she cried her heart out. And I envied her.

Cause I haven't cried for a while now. A LONG while. And seeing how she easily cried, for whatever reasons, I was jealous. Because I wanted that so badly, that I've drained myself empty. As a girl, I don't cry much. I faked my tears so that my lil bro would get the blame. (sorry, bro!) 

But now, as a erm.. woman? girl? lady? I rarely cry, cause I don't know for what. Only after I got to know my roots that I cry for the right reason-Allah. A cry for pleading for forgiveness. Hoping one of the tears would save me later in life.

And for a while now, I don't have the strength to cry no more. Pure weakness. I no longer have the courage to open myself up in front of Allah. No longer feel the strength of what connected me to Him. I could no longer stand for more than five minutes in front of Him, nor could I bow that long. (okay. getting personal over here) I couldn't open my mouth and move my lips in remembrance. I have weakened my hands from reaching for a good book to read. I have crippled myself, from moving in motion with my beliefs.

I have set in my mind that I will have tomorrow, and that death is far away from my reach. I pushed Him further and further away from me as I, myself, am building sin mountains in between us.

*pun*

Last few posts, I wrote that I forgot how to move.

Now, after all these invisible punches I got from unknown people, that I now, am starting, to crawl. Slowly.

Alhamdulillah.

Allah saved me again. Check mate!

And I'm hoping I would steer in the right way.

As I know, He shall guide me, though I am not worthy.