I grew up thinking sexy is beautiful. The more skin i expose, the skankier i pose, the sheerer the material, the bigger the reward, the better the deal, i wanted to be wanted. I tought a perfectly groomed face, body hugging, glitters and lace will make me desiveable, demandable, enviable, loveable. I sure caused it too many disgraces. I wanted to look tough, i wanted to show i was rough. I wasn't jahil, i wasn't ignorant. I knew my God, i know. I was just obscurant. I was concealing me from the truth, the truth! Oblirated so i can convince myself to focus more on being wanted by men than to impress the creator of men. I was too worried and disabled. I was anxious and somewhat troubled. I fear i was invisible, i was afraid but beyond all, i was desperate. I scum my body and soul with derailed ideolgies of lifestyle. I divert my aakhirah objectives to wordly things. I thought worthwhile, i do things even i hate! So i can please people i dont even like, who i knew never would anyways. No matter how vigorous i tried, i just wanted to fit in.
Allah, bring me back to my past so i can slap the stupidity out of my system.
Allah, take me to my old self so i can kick me hard and shout, "you do NOT want to be like them!
Dont be blinded, i would tell me, dont be silly, dont be obtuse, dont be confused. Be free from world expectation, be not what people want you to be, be not afraid when you want to say, "I want to be me." I did everything the world tells me to be. Be pretty, be cheap, be bright, be sexy, be everything by the look, be sure to focus on how i look.
So why was i? Undesirable still, undemandable still, uneviable still, unlovable still? Unhappy still? I failed to remember i'm not my cover layer, i was by the lies of those. I forgot what fades first are always the exterior before everything else.