I recently came across an article on Salah. The author was an older working woman, looking very glamorous in the picture accompanying the article. She did not wear a hijab. I was skeptical, as I looked at the picture. This woman, who clearly wasn’t dressed very ‘Islamically’ was going to tell me about Salah? Me, a hijabi?

It’s a sad unfortunate sight. I’ll be going about my usual day when suddenly I see a hint of familiarity. The hesitation comes first, but the second time I look, I’m reassured. My mind isn’t playing tricks on me. I know that girl. I recognize her face. But she looks so different; almost like a stranger without that soft fabric enveloping her head. As our eyes meet, I smile guiltily like I’ve been prying, but we converse as if nothing has changed.

This is the authored portrait of a young woman, whom through growth and experiential ruminations has come to learn of herself and the world around her. She is but sixteen years old and yet, like many teenagers, she feels as though the weight of the entire world rests firmly upon her shoulders.

It’s the fall which frightens you; shocks you. The THUD as you hit the cold floor. Suddenly it’s very dark. All the shadows of your past and the fear of the unknown future surround you. You sigh. Still in pain from the fall. Failure. You say to yourself, ‘I’ve failed’. You think to yourself, ‘I’ve failed.’

We all want to be remembered. We all want to make an impact on the people around us. It feels nice to get a compliment, and I would be lying if I insisted that I am any different. I enjoy being complimented as much as the next girl. It is only human to crave attention and we are all only human after all. Yet, one thing we should really think about is, ‘how exactly do I want to be remembered?’