The Light (Part 1)

I've been contemplating about publishing this entry. I hope Mama or Papa doesn't ever come across this one for it will somehow crush their hearts. Probably to pieces - Mama especially. But my intention is to share. You might agree or disagree, maybe totally feel like I should be banished to some foreign land or be struck by lightning. But that's not my concern right now. Because if you don't like what you're reading, by all means, leave this page. That's a short disclaimer for you :)

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I was born a Muslim. However, I've never really sat on a prayer mat since 2007. Let alone touch my prayer veil. I remember stashing it among unwanted clothes for donation. Without an iota of guilt, I did that. I can't recall exactly why I stopped performing As-Salat, or in laymen's terms; praying to God - Allah. I was doing so well in high school and in University, but slowly I slipped from grace.

After two failed relationships, I sought solace in clubbing and drinking (alcohol). It's not something I am proud of right now. I cringe every time I recall all the wild nights and painful hangovers. But anyway, I did it. Some people would put the blame on the crowd they mix and mingle with for all those bad influences, but a person in his/her right state of (spiritual) mind would be able to make a sound decision between the good and the bad. But apparently my spiritual grounds was at level zero, which lead me to ceaseless partying, drinking and other ungodly activities. Lucky that I hated cigarettes, so I was clear from weed. And drugs were just not my thing.

There came a point when I questioned myself why must a person pray in that manner? Why the 5-times-a-day solat, with veil and all? Why can't a person just pray from their bedside, whenever they feel like praying? Why must I perform such a ritual, with an insincere heart? Hence, I dropped praying altogether.

Sigh.

I can't believe I was that broken. I was spiritually broken.

I loved booze so much, I was thrilled at the sight of the words 'Happy Hour Discount'. I went from liquor to beer to cider to wine, and I decided to stay loyal to cider. Langkawi was my alco-haven. My new year's get-high sanctuary. The idea of duty free alcohol put a smile on my face, every time. Changkat-Bukit Bintang even felt like home.

What was going through my head: This is so cool. This is beyond awesome.

Alcohol turned me into a dimwit. The gibberish speeches, the light tumbles down the stairs, the loud banshee laugh, the blurry vision, the dangerous driving, the frisky and flirty behaviour (which lead to..ahuh. Yup.) and the excruciating vomiting series. I heavily regret it the morning after, but I do it all over again the next week.

With all that fiasco, where does God fit in? No where. I made no room for Him. I didn't even bother to say "Hey, thanks God!" for all the important things that mattered in my life - a good paying job, extra income, new relationships, the chance to travel and have splendid holidays with friends... I didn't even bother thanking Him for still having a wonderful loving family. He could've taken all that away from me, but He didn't. He could've stripped me off from all the little luxuries in life, but He didn't. And I was still an ungrateful minion.

Then April 2012 came, and things started to get rough.

Maylin found herself empty and beyond lost.