tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47618785270494366082024-02-19T16:27:13.028-08:00SyakirahahahuhuhihihohoSyakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-26817365862768821582018-01-15T21:34:00.001-08:002018-01-15T21:35:48.856-08:00Sayangku part 2<div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><img id="id_4c3f_d4a4_e439_a63" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbYeZlY_q3bXVi5GBrExFiKMaWT1GPPpzVZPa1mzCqndve9t_CJErsy7_679lxuMbpgRx5STpKLcBlG48bpdXwLkQl28wgeAxAThcUswQNj37GMv0YsD_tqVTKxJmEJC4ncKm3hW3Yry4/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><img id="id_310c_a7a7_279a_5561" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3krkr-F-EGeZd3R2J4YYFAC8JArBvKokB3IvYG9XNIleL7KFeSdXE7tzKFPzJDmLlfM0YdyHTTtaF5nWe4pOwQCzTZfm-sEwlhgKNhBkzF_rl4VDto97fix7SjcuIANUeNFjNAF5OA0/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sayangku,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was your first hello via pregnancy test a year ago and now you are in my arms. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It has been nearly five months of pure magic with you. You bring the best this worldly life can offer; love.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You were delivered 15 hours before term. You had to be induced because you had stopped growing for 4 weeks. You suffered from placental insufficiency, a condition that prevents you from absorbing enough nutrients from me. Part of it was due to my hyperemesis gravidarum, but another part was from stress,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">not from medicine or hormones, but from those who have ill intentions towards us.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They were people who I thought had love for us, but they had only jealousy. One was jealous with mere help I received from a lady to carry my luggage, others only Allah knows what. It was to the point they blamed us for the cold treatment, simply because I did not announce you. Little did I put effort to hide you, because I did not want to receive any special treatment from anyone, especially examiners. If I were to pass, I wanted to pass because of my hardworks, not sympathy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had no time for drama, I needed to take care of our health and my exam. I kept on juggling between seeing patients and becoming one.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And I passed my exam, alhamdulillah thumma alhamdulillah.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then there was a night of terror happening less than 12 hours before our departure to Malaysia. They tried to tear us down from cold midnight to dawn, just for the sake of money. They tried to hurt us by using power that they have, just for the sake of money. Lies after lies, curses after insults weren't enough. They forced us to submit to their lies until we surrendered your father's money. I was holding my yet another vomit, as so to hold onto truth. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Your father was taken to ATM, at 3 am in the morning, just to make them good about doing injustice towards a helpless, pregnant couple.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My first night terror was on that very night. I screamed so loud, but only made them sleep better with smiles. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When we arrived in Malaysia, it was as if we reached heaven. We were counting days for your arrival, wondering how you would look like and calling your name just so you kick! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But when the diagnosis was confirmed, we were made aware that you might not survive vaginal pressure. You were too small for contractions that strong. But you did, didn't you? Must have been from the 'pressure practice' you had during your in-utero life 🤗</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sayangku, </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is not a sad story about how I was bearing you, but a useful lesson on forgiveness, mercy and help from Allah to those who ask.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If anything happens in the future, do remember that</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>you are loved.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>by Allah, by me and your father, and many others. </b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>You do not bear my sins towards anyone.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>You do not hold grudges to those who did us wrong.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>And you do not become one of them.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We are living a dream, just you and me (and milk), waiting for Ayah to return from work, so we could cuddle altogether. Remember what I said,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">you bring us love ❤️ </div></div></div>Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-22750527358507236352017-12-12T18:33:00.001-08:002017-12-12T18:48:30.698-08:00 Things I wish I (or any first mum) knew about pregnancy before I became pregnant<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><font size="2"><br></font></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></font></p>
<ol start="9">
<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Its a whole new world. You are about to enter a phase of life like no other. Man, once the gametes are fertilised, there will be no turning back.. </font></span></li>
</ol>
<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">There won't be second first. The first positive pregnancy test, the first heartbeat, the first kick, your very firstborn officiate them all. So savour every taste of excitement.. you deserve it </span><span style="font-family: '.AppleColorEmojiUI';">❤️</span></font></li>
</ol>
<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Your body is working the best for you. Even if it means miscarriage or hyperemesis gravidarum. Majority of miscarriage is caused by abnormal chromosomes arrangement that is deemed unfit to survive later in life. HG mommies are found to have lower risk of miscarriage. So whatever you experience, think good things.</font></span></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Its fine to be lazy. If in doubt, blame hormones!! Like my MIL says, this will be the only time you'll be excused from doing house chores for a long time. Might not be helping if you enjoy doing them, though. You are officially a queen </span><span style="font-family: '.AppleColorEmojiUI';">👑</span></font></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">There are thousandssssss if not millionsssss of illogical, unbrainable(?), regrettably much acceptable theories on how to be pregnant properly lol. Tak boleh makan tu lah tak boleh buat ni lah. If they sound wrong to you, it probably is. Don't be stuck at feeling guilty for not listening to elderly, say 'baiklah' and do the correct things anyway.</font></span></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">You would want and should involve your husband. Not only to minimise paternal postpartum depression risk (which is very much real, btw) but to ensure you child receive the best potential to grow. Studies have shown that the more father involves, the smarter and stronger child becomes.</font></span></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">You can, and you will get pregnant from your first time, provided that the preconditioning is favourable. I remember meeting one future doctor saying 'Oh kita tak sangka pulak boleh terus pregnant.' Baby, think baby from the day you two agree to get married. So discuss family planning very very carefully, before you go plan your wedding. Every child should be wanted and intended. No human does it by eksiden, kemon.</font></span></li>
</ol>
<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
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<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Invest on breastfeeding, if you intend to, in terms of money and tools. I think most future mommies thought it would just go easy and natural, but most mommies won't say so. Go to talks, buy books, ask around, FIND SUPPORT eg facebook group ka. Know the basics eg susu basi vs colostrum, oz vs ounce, nipple normal or not, boii I can go on and on about this, better diff post lah.</font></span></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<ol>
<li style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Every pregnancy is different, even to the same person. What you feel is real and valid, even if nobody believes you. No pregnancy is perfect but in your eyes and uterus. You're doing your best, and that's a fact *<i>pat your tummy</i>*</font></span></li>
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<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="2"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Since I am a very junior mommy, I'll leave the tenth tip to senior mommy, hehe. Feel free to drop your precious tips!</font></span></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2"><br></font></span></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><font size="2"><img id="id_9eb7_ee43_7335_cdb7" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6x1FaF2Fo2VdaB25z6Modsjjd-tJUr0Kq_bf2ItB6q7r8Lew_b98CTCQTDoX9Ek18uREuXZIZXjFXvwtWP5Zzo-Fer6oCh5YEldob53ykswPevjsVWjmgZd2m5br86n0RoRsDRYCvLF4/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></font></p><p style="text-align: center; margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="2">Hard to believe this is me in third trimester in my baju nikah almost two years ago.</font></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></div>Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-57199440465872100042017-05-09T10:07:00.001-07:002017-05-09T10:07:04.932-07:00sayangkuAs I was waiting for my boarding, the word <i>sayangku</i> or my love came into my head.<br />
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I dedicate sayangku for my unborn child, whose strength and endurance humble me since day 1 of pregnancy.<br />
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Sayangku, I remember how I waited anxiously in the toilet for pregnancy test to show result. I didn't even miss a day yet, and we only had at most 2-days window to have you, so the chances weren't great. You are indeed a miracle.<br />
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Sayangku, no one knew you were there yet, except your father. He went dysphasia for almost 2 hours before he could call me and speak properly. But baby, there has never been a time your father was that stroke-like happy.<br />
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Sayangku, we had it tough, didn't we. My body was weak. I was kind of fit and healthy before you, but biology took its toll on me. Your father had to come all the way from Malaysia to take care of us because I was losing my grip. I almost lost you. He spent thousands just to come to save us. Such a man he is, isn't he.<br />
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Sayangku, when the news broke down, not everyone was happy. She scolded me in my face that I was a burden, and that you were unfortunate to be my child, her voice resonated all around the house but nobody came to our rescue. Lucky enough, your father came only 2 days later.<br />
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Sayangku, there were friends who promised that they would take care of us, but they didn't. They turned their backs on us and ignored us, not a sip of water nor a bite of food was offered in that house, but we survived. I remember how I had to crawl to the kitchen to make plain porridge that I knew I would throw up hours later, just so we didn't starve.<br />
<br />
..to be continued..<br />
<br />
<br />Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-41349752929225235982014-11-10T13:49:00.002-08:002014-11-10T13:49:57.475-08:00"your pain. they're real."<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismiIllahirrahmaanirraheem, </i></div>
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everyone is wearing a mask. some might show to some people, some might never do. it is a mask that shows the real you within you, which most of the times, I believe, is <i>dark.</i> </div>
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and its okay.</div>
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we're not angels. we never will be one. we are all sinners. if not everyday, every hour and every second. </div>
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here's some part of my mask I'd like to tell you -- I am a sad person.</div>
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not that I'm proud of that, I just want to feel good that I recognise <i>me</i>. if you don't accept this part of mask, please don't expect another part of the part of it;</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFcJCvxdux4l_ibjVPXNBxMlNSFNpD7MPmQwAKG0GrFbvLH5qHYOksNi2EHXFJ7ENVEw26kpS_6Y28tfsEDQ4sInwWOA8TGiNcsnLkd6jyzZ58PCoqRWdAiglG-NhFxit0U_eqAcFby8/s1600/Photo+on+01-08-2014+at+18.34+%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFcJCvxdux4l_ibjVPXNBxMlNSFNpD7MPmQwAKG0GrFbvLH5qHYOksNi2EHXFJ7ENVEw26kpS_6Y28tfsEDQ4sInwWOA8TGiNcsnLkd6jyzZ58PCoqRWdAiglG-NhFxit0U_eqAcFby8/s1600/Photo+on+01-08-2014+at+18.34+%233.jpg" height="640" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have a unique sad face :P</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Andaikan kalian tahu apa yang aku tahu, nescaya kalian kurang ketawa, banyak menangis, keluar menuju berbagai jalan (untuk mencari perlindungan) dan tidak lena tidur." [HR Bukhari, Hakim, at Tabrani]</span></div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-26885689658182229282014-10-30T07:40:00.001-07:002014-10-30T07:40:41.095-07:00semoga Allah jadikan saya sahabat yang solehah ameen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69HAFMTzHMoXgWy7osQLxr6zi5sqxNAsIugefQ7Tc380qk9JGgUQmvWnxmEOqVisCMYFQFlI4NFrlwt2qcPcSMOu5YAsCYN6MThXJlRz-hYoEsijMB9L-rTs2HzJ0RxNZJvJnOGu0zRk/s1600/granted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69HAFMTzHMoXgWy7osQLxr6zi5sqxNAsIugefQ7Tc380qk9JGgUQmvWnxmEOqVisCMYFQFlI4NFrlwt2qcPcSMOu5YAsCYN6MThXJlRz-hYoEsijMB9L-rTs2HzJ0RxNZJvJnOGu0zRk/s1600/granted.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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it's a whole different level of friendship when you call your friends as family. to a person who is excessively attached to family, it's not a term nor a status, it's a risk -- giving the right for someone to break your heart because you love them whole-heartedly.</div>
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I made a mistake. I apologised and forgave. and now I'm stuck. this isn't the first time and wouldn't be the last time that I lost people I wanted to laugh toothlessly with one day.</div>
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but it doesn't get any easier each time.</div>
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maybe it means I never get wiser. and I decide that I will continue learning. I'm learning how to be okay when people decide to not care about you anymore. or to leave you behind because you don't mean that much anymore. or to be crashed, without any understood reasons.</div>
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it's not moving on. its <i>acceptance.</i></div>
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I'm learning that it is okay to love again. and to trust other people. and to rewind the painful memories in head at times. a wise person said to me <span style="color: orange;">"you learn a lot through pain" </span>thus as a learner, I don't mind being in pain if that teaches me best. maybe the memories drop by only as revision haha.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm not a good person, I know. I doubt if I had a good heart at all. I am no where near righteousness (perhaps even further than I think). I burden myself more often that anyone could think of. I don't think I would like me if I was someone else. I'm surprised if anyone could put up with me because I don't too sebenarnya haha. </div>
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but I am certain about one thing; I am struggling. this is not going to be easy. it never has been.</div>
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I desperately hope that if I start to break again when I think about them, I would read this and be reminded that there was one time that I believe there's still hope for myself. </div>
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and I hope I can believe it still.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Apakah manusia itu mengira bahawa mereka dibiarkan (saja) mengatakan: 'Kami telah beriman.' sedang mereka tidak diuji lagi? Dan sesungguhnya kami telah menguji orang-orang yang sebelum mereka, maka sesungguhnya Allah mengetahui orang-orang yang benar dan sesungguhnya Dia mengetahui orang-orang yang dusta." - Ankabut:2-3</span></div>
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Sya... cenyum ciked :)</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-54106678749770200472014-10-20T17:32:00.001-07:002014-10-20T17:32:43.617-07:00I build walls I despise<p dir="ltr"><i>bismIllahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">I wish to sleep tight.<br>
I wish to not wake up in the middle of the night crying.<br>
I wish to not have nightmares at all.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Most of all, I wish to finally learn to forgive myself at the end of every night.</p>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-57492470327005864822014-10-17T03:31:00.000-07:002014-10-17T03:31:22.253-07:00writing as a hobby<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">"Ibu, rasa futur tak pegi tamrin, tak bawak usrah sume. Sedihnya rasaaaa."</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">"So ada banyak masa lebih la ni. You should write again! :D"</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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andddd here I am.</div>
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It came to my realisation today that my tweets had made a number of people cried, became angry and furious which I never understand why. It could be that my words of thoughts are dangerous to tell. And so for some time, I stopped writing because I didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.</div>
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But then I realised that the very fact that I never wanted to hurt anyone is exactly why I should start writing again. I should improve on my writing ie improve on what I think in my head. I always believe that if people could get into my mind, none would have survived.</div>
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Mind is so close to feeling. What you feel will give you thoughts. As complicated as my mind is, feeling is even beyond what I could tell. I always ask myself every time conflicts happens, "<span style="color: orange;">how do I feel this now."</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">"Stop thinking just about yourself, Sya."</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">"Don't write things in social network to let the world knows about it."</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">"Janganlah emotional sangat."</span></div>
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I think Im done.</div>
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I'm done listening to (most) answers people gave me. I don't want to be told what to feel anymore. Its not fair for people to do something to me and expect me to even feel the way they want me to. My feelings may be absurd but they are <i>real.</i> I'm not sorry for being real.</div>
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However, I have a right to feel but its my responsibility to control. I'm a big girl now. I have to learn to do things right. But that does not include pleasing you.</div>
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Disclaimer: no I am not emotional. these are my words of thoughts, not of feelings. Stop judging me pffft.</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-50288475586619609852014-08-09T17:44:00.002-07:002014-08-09T17:44:32.298-07:00their replies<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
"<a href="http://martinellihashim.blogspot.com/2014/08/cekalkan-hati.html" target="_blank">Cekalkan hati</a>"Ibu.</blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGisygTcHxdXD3PqC6Fd6x-dTiKr-kXrSinStrTTpx8BA7uKQhFVkoKlQjPfQE0wJurXfmrmeMcfWX1hQRRkLzWiqnWKLlaIMFI9eGPAAl81858jxEbW1EsJvVTEbi4KksjMy2Qu7jIw/s1600/DSC_0250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGisygTcHxdXD3PqC6Fd6x-dTiKr-kXrSinStrTTpx8BA7uKQhFVkoKlQjPfQE0wJurXfmrmeMcfWX1hQRRkLzWiqnWKLlaIMFI9eGPAAl81858jxEbW1EsJvVTEbi4KksjMy2Qu7jIw/s1600/DSC_0250.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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"Ermm Cik Ya nyangan nangesh..." Kautsar.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MRvnywy2G08mWo6XrteQ6Cf900MOzlX_UP3V2HOlg5_WiSVquXePa0m4pCFBm5QTuIvHDK64NfJqAclFTq-A2Vxonw6bsfFdh2Y8jWYiG-TirnfBZ9spiMOu8k3b9gDZ3F5u2aiyBdg/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MRvnywy2G08mWo6XrteQ6Cf900MOzlX_UP3V2HOlg5_WiSVquXePa0m4pCFBm5QTuIvHDK64NfJqAclFTq-A2Vxonw6bsfFdh2Y8jWYiG-TirnfBZ9spiMOu8k3b9gDZ3F5u2aiyBdg/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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Okaylah. Cik Ya modelling pulak. Luls. I do small <a href="http://instagram.com/ayasofyasays" target="_blank">business</a> je.</div>
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<i>I am never strong. That is exactly why Allah tests me; to provide what I'm lacking of - strength.</i></div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-8126080581063354052014-08-07T10:41:00.001-07:002014-08-07T17:27:26.147-07:00I am a bit of paradox. Or maybe a lot.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
I find it so easy to be happy or to laugh loudly but I am easier to be sad and cry louder. </div>
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I love (yummy) food so much but I don't eat much. In fact, they get lesser each time.</div>
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To me, the kids are so lovable but I don't like immaturity.</div>
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There are too many thoughts in my head but most of them won't let me get in the way that they become painful instead. </div>
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I could sleep so soundly last night but I might just cry myself to sleep tonight.</div>
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Because I doubt if I will ever get it: how can you just leave someone after you ran after them for years? How do you head forward without a glimpse to what you have left behind? Why would you do those horrible things without any reason at all? Most importantly, how did I become meaningless so suddenly?</div>
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<i>Sya, please. You are not helping yourself, please. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Neither are you.</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-22665537807974660362014-07-04T08:15:00.003-07:002014-07-04T08:21:32.302-07:00I can't do this..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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isn't it the best time of the year? its the feast of ibadah; every day is a blessing that takes us 70 years away from the Hellfire and every amal, no matter how tiny it is, grows bigger beyond our imagination.</div>
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actually, there is blessing in every bit of Ramadhan.</div>
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be it the portion of sahur and iftar, the rakaat of tarawih and qiyamulail, or the warm look at our parents or innocent child - all of them carry a huge blessing that is worth rebut for.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg736FEmmrReZQjNdLdjYVQDyN9_CPLAj-rU-9a4WC5OXnr6h2OXgyXqo-V4sujB_OC6-bg2vcHfe3t9YafidNKfARmeB2K5wFYu6tR8O3gJEZioEvCamd7M4F0b_5EzSGyJFmTjVEa8/s1600/CYMERA_20140702_004043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg736FEmmrReZQjNdLdjYVQDyN9_CPLAj-rU-9a4WC5OXnr6h2OXgyXqo-V4sujB_OC6-bg2vcHfe3t9YafidNKfARmeB2K5wFYu6tR8O3gJEZioEvCamd7M4F0b_5EzSGyJFmTjVEa8/s1600/CYMERA_20140702_004043.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am in love with this time of the year and I think it shows very obviously in the above picture (not technically selfie tau <span style="color: orange;">:P</span>)<br />
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and also, if you are expecting this to be an emo post, I'm sorry I disappointed you. to whom this post title may concern, worry not. I am more than okay -- I'm happy <i>alhamdulillahirabbil'alameen.</i><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Bersangka baiklah denganKu, nescaya kebaikanlah untuknya." [HR Imam Ahmad]</span></div>
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Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-27823805894196696102014-06-06T01:50:00.001-07:002014-06-06T01:52:36.581-07:00nature spoke up this morning<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i><br />
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first thought of the day,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQk0_W5nbnpXwevEpIaTUWRreWAfDe7Sh-MBozcz2FwSt8FUhNC7aHLvjmz8XzMPNTxrKo3MeYYzJrKutDxBP-cMNsVInnAlsInB-UD5XTFNjnTLeKEngus9umtYARvjM-Q8VsLt0_lYg/s1600/IMAG2839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQk0_W5nbnpXwevEpIaTUWRreWAfDe7Sh-MBozcz2FwSt8FUhNC7aHLvjmz8XzMPNTxrKo3MeYYzJrKutDxBP-cMNsVInnAlsInB-UD5XTFNjnTLeKEngus9umtYARvjM-Q8VsLt0_lYg/s1600/IMAG2839.jpg" height="474" width="640" /></a></div>
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isn't my heart as cold and dull?<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">endless times I'm calling You for help, for I know You hear. </span><br />
<i>God, help me..</i>Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-4375802131934187022014-06-05T04:22:00.001-07:002014-06-05T04:22:24.630-07:00Catatan #1 Fathul Konstatinopel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">"Tu lahh omputih ni saje nak burukkan khulafa' kita dulu. Dorang nak hilangkan keyakinan dan kebanggaan kita kat pemerintahan Islam - UA terbaik sepanjang zaman kot!" Semangat duk borak lepas semangat al Fatih termeresap kat Hagia Sofia. Mo</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">nolog takbir siap. </span></span></div>
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Duduk-duduk kat luar Blue Mosque, sorang budak laki datang dekat.</div>
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"Assalamualaikum. Suria." sambil tadah tangan. </div>
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Hmm lain sikit muka budak ni. Tenang je tengok.. bagi 1 lira. Dia pun pegi tepi sikit. </div>
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Sorang lagi budak laki datang dekat, "Assalamualaikum." </div>
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Ha aiyok sindiket ke. Budak tu tengok budak lagi satu kat tepi tu. Dua-dua malu-malu.</div>
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Sedar tak sedar, tersembang dengan diorang. </div>
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"Ma ismukum?" </div>
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"Ana Muhammad."</div>
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"Ana 'Abdul."</div>
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"Akhi, akhi." Pinpoint each other. </div>
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Oh adik beradik. Patut muka carbon copy. </div>
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"Aina ummukum?" </div>
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"Syahid fi suria!" jawabnya 'izzah. Cukup 'izzah.</div>
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Tersentak. </div>
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Lidah terkelu.</div>
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Mata berair. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Baru je semangat duk cite pasal khalifah Islam zaman dulu. Tak, bukan lama dulu sangat pun. Baru 90 tahun.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Itu history.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tak sampai 10 minit lepas tu duk borak dengan adik-adik Syria pasal kerajaan Islam (Islam kah?) zaman ni.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ini reality.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Allah takkan saja-saja izinkan untuk bermastautin kat bumi Uthmani ni. Takkan saja-saja Allah izinkan untuk tersambut ulangtahun ke 561 Fathul Konstantinopel kat sini. Kronologi back-to-back history dan reality check pada hari yang sama pun takkan pernah kebetulan semata-mata. Bukan ke tarbiyyah tu Allah yang bagi?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tapi soalan sebenar ialah</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">ada tak hati untuk menerima?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Ermm ta'kul?" Tanya Muhammad sambil hulur biskut yang baru kami bagi lepas dia tunjuk perut macam tahan lapar. Biskut kat tangan dia pun belum sempat masuk mulut lagi dah offer kami yang terlebih makan kebap ni.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sekian catatan #1 Jatsa Uthmaniyyah</span></div>
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Doakan kewujudan #2 #3 #4 dan seterusnya hewhew.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPrQqxTGhvexPlfe65VFQT0RxBL44u8JWyA8b7JRyc-HR3j7zAVC0M7geI2D649_5mpmzK3sF__KXb79yKowQcyKfAS-R541PzXZgJVHrfwrSpRDXc2Y_cDn8KrAuRa4BZeG6QMzWnxM/s1600/PhotoGrid_1401386703591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPrQqxTGhvexPlfe65VFQT0RxBL44u8JWyA8b7JRyc-HR3j7zAVC0M7geI2D649_5mpmzK3sF__KXb79yKowQcyKfAS-R541PzXZgJVHrfwrSpRDXc2Y_cDn8KrAuRa4BZeG6QMzWnxM/s1600/PhotoGrid_1401386703591.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-78431405504630589702014-05-03T14:56:00.000-07:002014-05-04T02:41:27.119-07:00here goes another poem.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3dKbb0I3tQutvw-cyyLk8QyFTB9p2EewlAMUuRxfsZiNdiyVKQjBcy0YsP2FpaJKIDVQXCI_gzwS7NgxzFIF2sPei74O5BDt81Wj0zVFpD_hCI1X08OmDWYdIppGfl3Ykat7Ipj3rrA/s1600/yusya1.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3dKbb0I3tQutvw-cyyLk8QyFTB9p2EewlAMUuRxfsZiNdiyVKQjBcy0YsP2FpaJKIDVQXCI_gzwS7NgxzFIF2sPei74O5BDt81Wj0zVFpD_hCI1X08OmDWYdIppGfl3Ykat7Ipj3rrA/s1600/yusya1.jpg.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></div>
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if only I could undo the hurt, I would</div>
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even if I had to take meds</div>
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or to go under electroconvulsive shock</div>
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I would, believe me, I would</div>
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I would certainly go for anything to get the half of me I loved and lost. </div>
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if, and only if, I could.</div>
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"<span style="color: #b45f06;">its you who needs forgiveness from you. forgive yourself, Sya.</span>"</div>
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<br />Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-14071408694147968442014-04-24T14:26:00.001-07:002014-04-24T14:26:47.161-07:00heartful hurt<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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Maybe this is only hormonal. It could be that the exam is taking away my rational mind. Or, may be I have gone mad because there is so much to read for Health&Disease paper next Friday. I don't know. As hard as I am trying to untangle this feeling I didn't ask for, I can't hold it back anymore now..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSnbvvSYLAHdieY0CFGiIgj0KkPKa6aImg7ZOF0WlIVPYQLTB2n6ztPc0i7Y7EXrWv6lV7-L4OsyV7cIuSEWTKwYr0WEUmP3iKaDcGUoSPaJlTw9x7-thNYoJsBkT5bcgc4auj_5Ebhw/s1600/IMAG1623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSnbvvSYLAHdieY0CFGiIgj0KkPKa6aImg7ZOF0WlIVPYQLTB2n6ztPc0i7Y7EXrWv6lV7-L4OsyV7cIuSEWTKwYr0WEUmP3iKaDcGUoSPaJlTw9x7-thNYoJsBkT5bcgc4auj_5Ebhw/s1600/IMAG1623.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
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because sometimes just writing them down can be helpful for mental health improvement.</div>
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No one seems to listen anyways.</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-49148443568962862182014-04-08T02:30:00.000-07:002014-04-08T02:30:21.250-07:00for the same she<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem, </i></div>
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The term tarbiyyah dapur sounds very interesting isn't it. Being an sometimes-even-overly extrovert person, introversion is an alien thing to me. I always ask '<span style="color: #6aa84f;">why won't you talk</span>' '<span style="color: #6aa84f;">why aren't you doing this</span>' '<span style="color: #6aa84f;">how do you live this way</span>' to well, almost everyone. It's not a good thing, I know. Its only that I always don't get it how do introverts live</div>
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until last weekend.</div>
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I always thought that "<span style="color: orange;">I should be the last person to be appointed as AJK Dapur"</span>. Kelayakan mencecah kerak bumi. No issues relating to cooking skills, feminism etc, but the short two days being AJK Dapur were actually more enjoyable than I imagined. Almost all AJKs were mostly introverts, I believe, but it was unbelievebly fun having them around for almost the whole day. I can't deny that it hurts me to the most bottom part of my heart (serious k serious) listening to stories of how awesome pengisian in the hall was while I was chopping onions with teary eyes in the kitchen luls. </div>
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But God knows what we need most. </div>
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The tarbiyyah I received in the kitchen was beautiful. I learn that you think more when you speak less. I now see that tarbiyyah is beyond four walls of the hall. She is everywhere. With or without us being aware of her. Truth is, I still can't stop thinking about her when I got home until now. </div>
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I guess I am ever no where near competing with her. For I'm for the same she. I fell in love with her, too. She grows inside of me since heaven knows when. She is perfect, Islam is perfect, and we are so imperfect that we desperately need her for every inch soul we think we own. </div>
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You know what, more than that, we are all for Him. From Him we come, to Him we return, for Him we live. But if she is bound to a group, to me personally, she is disabled. <i>wAllahu'alam.</i></div>
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now back to tarbiyyah medic. Final is next week ksajdkahfjadfjkajsdhadsjhkjs. Pray for me, will ya? <span style="color: #ea9999;">:)</span><br />
<br />Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-91045673649958289952014-03-31T06:34:00.007-07:002014-03-31T06:34:57.312-07:00"cuba explain sket""<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Apa sebenarnya dia buat kat awak sampai jadi cani? Tak fahamlah</span>."<br />
<br />
before:<br />
"<span style="color: orange;">Sya, kita takkan buat macamtu kat kawan sendiri!</span>"<br />
<br />
after:<br />
"<span style="color: orange;">ni bukan pasal Sya je tau tak</span>."<br />
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tak emo pun. tak emo pun. lalalala.Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-18928480244843984282014-02-17T00:37:00.000-08:002014-02-17T00:37:04.459-08:00The cold got into my bone!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>BismIllahirrahmaanirraheem.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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It was raining heavily this morning.</div>
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Haish semalam hailing all day, hari ni macam raining all day. Sejuk betul malam tadi sebab heater rosak. Agak tipu jugak la kalau oil habis sebab baru je refill. Kalau murah takpe, ni sampai 400euro ohoiii. </div>
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Oh God. The wind!</div>
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Aaaa menyesal pulak pakai coat tak waterproof. Grrrrr macam dah nak terbang tinggi. Adoi susah pulak nak bernafas huuhhhhh. Oh please Allah please Rabbi, ease this for me! I want to go to lecture!</div>
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Eh. Kenapa traffic light kereta merah, pedestarian hijau? Sape yang tekan butang?</div>
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(Checking right and left for other pedestrian)</div>
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None. </div>
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<i>Innama'al 'usri yusra. Fainnama'al 'usri yusra. </i><i>Allahumusta'an</i><i>. </i></div>
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oh dear Allah, You truly are the most merciful.</div>
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Based on true story of a normal rainy day in Galway during winter. </div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-72418574044667951912014-02-03T11:13:00.003-08:002014-02-03T11:13:57.507-08:00"supaya dia tunduk"<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem</i><br />
<br />
"<span style="color: #134f5c;">diberikan dia ujian hati yang berat</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">ditarik daripadanya seorang sahabat </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">yang siapa di hatinya terlalu dekat</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">dijadikan pula hati si dia beralih</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">terlalu pantas pusingannya hatinya tertoreh</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">diizinkan pula cerita lama dibuka semula</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">tanpa kerelaannya, bukan kemahuannya</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">lemah terasa, </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">bukan yang pertama,</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">tapi yang pasti, </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">semuanya</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">supaya dia tunduk.</span>"<br />
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<br />
I managed to get myself to one stage of life for the first time ever to feel this. I found no words to describe it but 'tunduk'.<br />
<br />
Tunduk to the Maker and His plans. Tunduk my own ego to the Owner of me. Tunduk to focus on medic books, usrah books, assignments, agar plate - my main business for now. Of course its hurtful, always is. The pain is too real, enough for me to keep it by my self. It also gets literally hurtful that I'm not well now *cough<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">tunduk, Sya, tunduk</span>. <i>radheetubillahirabba. </i><br />
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<br />Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-11106707208113369522014-02-03T01:17:00.000-08:002014-02-03T01:17:09.449-08:00Short note<div dir="ltr">
"She is wounded,<br />
But she will greatly be healed by The Healer."</div>
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It must be safe now to say that I accepted everything. The good and the bad, the ugly and the pretty. No other reasons I can find to be strong but Him, and only Him. </div>
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And to you, you can continue the hurtings, but I believe the healing will too, continue, repeatedly, without fail. </div>
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<i>BiidznIllah. RadheetubIllah.</i></div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-34367374456027822242013-12-31T08:50:00.001-08:002014-01-04T07:46:45.471-08:00a wedding wish, I suppose<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">I knew it was something from the way you held the door,</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">As I was trying to shut it so hard my arms were sore.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">My wall has always been very thick and high,</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Yet you entered every time as easy as pie, </span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">If only I knew the answer why. </span><br />
<br />
I never wrote any poem, nowhere near Shakespeare and so.. this is my very first poem made on this very first hour of first day of 2014. I dedicated this poem to a friend I found and lost, who might read this later or sooner and I wish I told her long ago that;<br />
<br />
you had my heart. thank you for the care all these years..<br />
<br />
<i>barakallahufeek!</i><br />
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<i><br /></i></div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-43128202052444843272013-12-29T06:43:00.001-08:002013-12-29T06:43:34.014-08:00"I'm giving up on you"<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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I would love to tell you about the shoutings in house and cars, the loss of a friend that I trusted with my life through betrayal and the disappointment of being a side plan when the person always been in my master plan. </div>
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I'd also love to tell you about Aslim and Naufal ran naked around the house because they didn't want to wear clothes after shower, the eye-opening moments I had in Twins of Faith I attended yesterday because they were so many people have waken up to Islam that ever I witnessed before and how mature my lil brother's girlfriend is because she sounds intellectual in her tweets heh. </div>
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I would love to tell them all, to you. Each and every detail, to you.</div>
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If only you could just say something to me.</div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">#np Say Something</span> such a great great song, seriously.</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-2982207010558239402013-11-08T16:32:00.002-08:002013-11-09T00:59:08.000-08:00my weak part<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
one of the major reasons why I can relate to Yasmin Mogahed's writing is because I can feel her precisely and doubtlessly. </div>
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I believe most of us - especially girls- feel the same way, too. she writes almost flawlessly about feeling that it is near impossible to disagree. our hearts are made to feel, aren't they? erm, only that girls are more prone to sadness and weakness, aren't we? :) weakness may be some sort of addiction. I believe psychiatry can explain this better but I'm going to explain this in my own viewpoint, my own story;</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
my subject of weakness always, nearly most of the time, is love. most of loves I experience make me weak. be it a person, an object or a mere memory. I tend to love, very weakly.</div>
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until to a very recent initially-unaware moment that I hate to weakness that results me to hate to love. I do not want to be weak anymore. I really want to fight this addiction of feeling weak. I despise it every second up to the point I do not see love the way I should see it.</div>
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and then it hit me.</div>
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if its love, it shouldn't make us weak. love is strength. love is what makes world goes around. not money, no.</div>
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but if and only if, it is done in the right way - <i>lillah</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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so, I have now decided that until I love something lillahita'ala, I refuse to love it at all. I still hate weakness and will always hate it. it easily gets on my nerves to see weak people, especially those that I can see strength inside of them. stop being so weak, stop underestimating yourself, and most importantly, stop confusing yourself between penakut and taqwa. taqwa itu membina diri, takut penakut melemahkan hati. perempuan lemah lembut, bukan lemah lembik. come on, rise up and shine your imaan, my friends. look at bigger things in life, think about the ummah not just yourself. </div>
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get out from that hole of weakness you get yourself into.</div>
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and above is the only reason why I'm not able finish her book, too. (yet)</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-79322231335839906092013-10-23T14:16:00.001-07:002013-10-23T14:17:04.742-07:00"Sabar, Sya."<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">"pengorbanan bukannya memberikan apa yang kita ada, tapi memberikan lebih apa yang kita ada."</span></div>
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maksudnya, kalau ada RM10, kita bukan bagi RM1 mahupun RM10, tapi RM10 ke atas. kita bagi lebih daripada apa yang kita mampu dengan cara 'push' diri sendiri untuk cari duit lebih dengan simpan duit, kerja etc. jadinya, kita mengorbankan bukan setakat duit, tapi diri sendiri, untuk orang lain.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
of cos lah, bukan senang. bukan senang nak luangkan 5 jam seminggu utk usrah. 5 jam boleh habis 3 lecture notes Dr Wilkins kottt. bukan senang jugak nak berjaga sampai pukul 11 malam kalau dah terbiasa tidur pukul 9 malam. ingat senang-senang histamine nak ubah sleep cycle? bukan senang nak paksa diri makan nasi setiap kali usrah atau tamrin kalau dah memang tak makan nasi sejak kecik. eh.</div>
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<br /></div>
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perdagangan yang paling menguntungkan menuntut manusia menginfakkan harta dan jiwa dalam jalan Islam <span style="color: #990000;">61:11 </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
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jadi, perdagangan itu merujuk kepada pengorbanan diri sendiri - tenaga, masa, perasaan (apa-apa yang berharga) dan jugak jiwa dan raga keseluruhannya.<br />
<br />
jadinya, mengorbankan diri daripada melakukan apa yang kita suka - tengok movie, makan, sembang, tidur, untuk melakukan apa yang kita perlu buat - belajar, usrah, belajar lagi, usrah lagi bukannya semudah yang orang yang tak buat sangka. </div>
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alhamdulillahirabbeel'alameen, alhamdulillahirabbeel'alameen, alhamdulillahirabbeel'alameen.</div>
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"<span style="color: orange;">Sabar, Sya.</span>" is definitely the best wish for the eid adha <span style="color: #990000;">:)</span><br />
<i>salam eid! salam pengorbanan! wassalamualaikum!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-45810895368055553222013-10-09T00:47:00.001-07:002013-10-09T00:47:39.822-07:00not sure what kind of wife/mum I'd become <i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem, assalamualaikumwarahmatullah,</i><br />
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I remember during one of the most beautiful moments in my life being infront of Kaabah, something happened infront of me that forced me to make a du'a:</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">"oh Lord, make me one of your faithful and committed workers of Islam."</span></div>
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my ambition is to be a doctor. my dream is to live lifelong as a muslim. not a typical muslim, a <i>working</i> muslim. not a doctor working as a muslim, but a muslim working as a doctor. being a da'ie is more than an ambition, it's a dream. it's a never-ending dream I always find myself chasing for. if Islam puts qualifications required to be a da'ie, like book of Teguran buat Du'at by Sheikh Yusuf Qardawi, it must take more than this life for me to achieve my dream.</div>
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but I am still trying.</div>
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it looks like more to failure now since last night. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. if any of you whom I wronged before read this post, know that I deeply regret my mistakes.</div>
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I apologise for the time I wasn't able to make for you - home dinners I skipped, lunch dates I missed or salaam I didn't give when I entered the house or when I met you on the way to lecture. and more in the list.. taknak buka pekung di dada besar-besar sangat.</div>
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I will not use busy, time constriction, exhaustion etc as excuse anymore. it is my mistake, my own khilaaf, my shameful weakness that I don't tunaikan hak semua orang sebagai kawan. insyaAllah after this I'll try to do it better - to balance all aspects of my life to the furthest extent of my capability. and sorry in advance, too, if next second after I wrote this, I pergi emergency meeting pulak instead of pergi town dengan korang<span style="color: orange;"> T.T</span></div>
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because at the end of the day, it really is about whom you love more </div>
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and whom you love true. in other words, <i>fillah. </i>not<i> fil jamaah </i>or <i>fil bait </i>or<i> fil favorite food or hobbies</i>.</div>
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ps/ another beautiful (less than above, of course) moment of life is when someone pats my at my back and asks '<span style="color: orange;">okay tak, Sya?</span>' :)</div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4761878527049436608.post-86904726129592069792013-09-25T03:29:00.000-07:002013-09-25T03:29:01.806-07:00the perk of being a busy nerd<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>bismillahirrahmaanirraheem</i>,</div>
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isn't it a wonderful feeling to score an exam or test with high mark? or to fully understand the lectures because you have done revision beforehand. it is also beautiful to be able to point any structure on the skull and tell its name and vessels that pass through it during lab session. </div>
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to me, learning medicine is happiness. </div>
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I also find it exciting to listen to talks and discussions, particularly on Islamic issues like middle east crisis and even Ust Fathul Bari kahwin dua (eh bukan gosip ke ni lol). I'm undeniably in love with the atmosphere of being in a group of people of knowledge - deeply, madly in love with this. </div>
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thus, learning Islam brings me contentment. </div>
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it is through learning that I find my heart and soul at peace. I fall in love over and over again, more often lately, with books and people around me. Dr Wilkins is at top of the list btw<span style="color: orange;"> :P</span></div>
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what I intend to convey is that love can be found in hatred.</div>
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medicine is never easy, I'm doing it with struggles and hardships that I take paracetamol and caffein as a defence to stress. Islam is not upheld high as it supposes to be yet, but we're muslims. we are the ones to take the responsibility and jalan dakwah tak dibentangkan dengan karpet merah dan taburan bunga. </div>
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but at the end of the exhausting day every day, shouldn't we all be reminded that;</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Verily, with hardship, there is ease." 94:6</span></div>
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thank You, thank You, thank You, the Most Merciful for the love I found and the help You descend to me without fail. </div>
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kbai nak belajar neuroanat esok lab Sya uiiiii. </div>
Syakirah Azamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217644335850670253noreply@blogger.com1