day at the beach 08/31/25: is lovin right.

After having a sad day alone in my apartment with my x-lover gone. shortly after our break up and the day after a very turbulent tell-all fight, I decided to go to the beach at 4 pm.

I took the a train, messed up directions along the way. got on the wrong bus, left the wrong train, but I made it. I found a place by the rocks and sat for hours, thinking, crying over and over again about it all.. break ups suck.

Forgiveness makes the best fool of me yet again.

Things would play in mind over and over. how it all couldve gone different. I started picking rocks to give to him, all the green ones.. I then started picking up rocks for myself, my bag was so heavy on the way home. Felt like I left the beach rockless.

Time went by, people were leaving, night fell and the beach was all mine. i was listening to 'a vritet parvasia' dancing in the water alone, not even the lifeguards around. I then at the height of the moon, got on my knees and started praying in arabic to the moon. the way my mother taught me growing up. although i dont practice islam anymore, its still ingrained in me.. so i started praying to th half moon, the phase that means the most to me coincidentally.

Crying my eyes out singing and praying.

Seletullah Selemullah Seletullah Selemullah

Alejke aresul Allah Alejke a habib Allah

Alejke aresul Allah Alejke a habib Allah

It felt so cathartic, I was praying for Gaza, I was praying for me, I was praying for every unfortunate soul in this world, I was praying for the past lives of kosovar genoicde survivors. For my family. for the future of my mother.

I couldn’t get myself to leave. I spent the remainder of my time dancing and singing in the water, with all my clothes on. then I came home to reality.

my favorite female artists are those who sing about their devout passion to the lovers in their life with no shame... but i could never be vulnerable enough to share my own devotion about a lover. lol... which hinders my writing greatly.. it just pains me to think of what i saw growing up seeing what my mother went through as an albanian woman who fled from genocide with my father and her 6 kids before me, to come to this country and have her american born daughter throw so much of her time away to relationships... i've spent a decade, now that i'm 25, in and out of relationships. as beauitful as they were i tend to fall into a thought cycle that frames relationships as despicable.. especially as a modern woman with an eastern background. a background of struggle in all ways, from class to gender to domestic,,,, to be lost in a partnership instead of remaining independent for the sake of the women. before me who couldnt

im aware this is a linear thought train, ultimately i understand there's space for love and passion in me and in all women, but im not talking about that right now... thats an already established reality.

the idea here that combats with a healthy way of thinking (lol) is that being with a man is disrespectful to my ancestors. and what they went through as well as my sisters and my mother, my grandmothers. as beautiful as being in love is, the good and the bad. as much as i could never regret anything involving passion.. as true as love is to the soul and i could never be devoid of it... i cant help but fall into these thoughts

i can only hope if i ever have a daughter that she'd never get involved with a man, she'd be to smart. she'd be to sure of her path, she'd be to free. she'd be to loving.