I am sorry I put a lot of pressure on you. It is unfair how I expect you to save the world and get dinner ready by 6pm. You are not an underwear-on-the-outside type of person; you're no superhero. You're just a regular Khadijah, looking for her regular Muhammad.
I'm sorry that I keep adding stuff on to the list of things "TO BE". I tease you with the possibility of being a "somebody" and that's cruel.. I see it now. I want you to be the best that you can be so that you can move out of the space you rented in my head and live in the real world. A world where potholes amuse you. A place where your struggles are your assurances that God wants you to meet Him.
Oops, there I go again with my hopes and dreams for you. I hope you know that I'm proud of you and that I love you.
Just promise me that you'd hold onto the rail while looking at the stars.
Lots of love,
Your Actual Self
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