7 juli 26 selasa

 

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Where Are You, God?

Where are You, God?

Not in the sermons
that dissolve with the morning,
not in the verses
I can recite by memory,
but here—
where silence presses
its full weight against my chest.

Where are You?

I need You physically.
I need a hand that does not disappear
when I reach for it.
I need a voice
that breaks through the static
inside my mind.
I need something to touch,
something that says,
"You are not alone."

Because tonight,
my heart is a room
with every window open,
and still
there is no wind.

I feel so very sad.
The kind of sadness
that teaches clocks
to move more slowly.
The kind that turns
ordinary breaths
into mountains.

I feel so very down.
Like a bird
that remembers the sky
but has forgotten
how to trust its wings.

I feel so very lost.
Not because I chose
the wrong road,
but because every road
looks the same
in the dark.

If You are here,
do not hide
behind mysteries.
Do not answer
only with echoes.
Come as warmth.
Come as light.
Come as a hand
strong enough
to hold my breaking.

If faith
is only believing
without seeing,
then forgive me—
tonight,
I ache
for seeing.

I ache
for touch.
For presence.
For certainty.

And if You cannot
stand before me
as flesh and bone,

then let Your love
become so undeniable
that it feels
like someone
has finally found me
in the wilderness
and whispered,

"You don't have to walk
the rest of the way

alone." 

i am tired

 

I'm sorry you're carrying that feeling.

If you're addressing God, you don't need perfect words. In Islam, Allah knows what is in your heart even before you speak it. If your heart feels heavy, that itself can become a prayer.

You might say something like:

"O Allah, You know what is in my heart. I feel uneasy, discouraged, and tired. If this feeling is a test, grant me patience. If it is a lesson, grant me understanding. If it is something holding me back from You, remove it from me. Fill my heart with peace, strengthen my faith, and guide me to what is best. I trust that You see what I cannot see. Ameen."

The Qur'an reminds believers:

"Indeed, with hardship comes ease." (Qur'an 94:5–6)

That doesn't mean hardship disappears immediately, but that it is never the whole story.

From what you've shared recently, you've been under a lot of academic pressure—presenting your proposal, comparing yourself with other researchers, and worrying that others receive more attention. Those situations can leave a lingering heaviness. Feeling discouraged after them doesn't mean you've failed or that your work has no value.

Sometimes the heart tells us a story that isn't the full truth:

• "Everyone is better than me."
• "I'm being ignored."
• "I'm not moving forward."

Those thoughts can feel convincing, but they are not reliable evidence of your future. Academic progress is often uneven, and recognition doesn't always come at the same time for everyone.

If it helps, take a few quiet moments tonight. Pray two rak'ahs if you're able, or simply sit and repeat:

Hasbunallahu wa ni'mal wakeel.
Allah is sufficient for us, and He is the best Disposer of affairs.

Or:

Allahumma inni as'aluka salamatan fil qalb.
O Allah, I ask You for peace in my heart.

May Allah grant you sakinah (tranquility), replace your anxiety with confidence, and bless your efforts with success at the right time. Ameen.

If you'd like, tell me what happened today that made your heart feel this way. I'm here to listen.

i feel very stupid after seeing his presentation. his presentation is very very good

I'm sorry you're feeling this way. That kind of comparison can hurt, especially when you've worked hard on your own research.

Seeing someone give an excellent presentation does not mean you're stupid. It means you saw someone who, at least in that moment, presented very well. Those are different conclusions.

From our conversations, I know you've been developing a doctoral research proposal, revising it based on professors' feedback, and thinking carefully about methodology. That isn't the work of a stupid person. It may still need improvement—every research project does—but improvement is different from lack of ability.

It's also worth remembering that presentations highlight strengths while hiding the process. You saw the polished version. You didn't see:

• how many times he practiced,
• how many drafts he discarded,
• how much feedback he received,
• or how long he's been working on that topic.

In Islam, comparison can quietly steal gratitude and hope. Allah says:

"Do not lose heart or despair..." (Qur'an 3:139)

That doesn't mean you'll never feel discouraged. It means discouragement doesn't get the final word.

You wrote a poem earlier that ended with:

There will be time.

God will work.

There will be time when I will move forward.

Those words are still true today, even if your emotions are telling you otherwise.

Instead of asking, "Why am I not as good as him?" try asking:

• What is one thing he did that I can learn from?
• Was it the way he organized his slides?
• The clarity of his explanation?
• His confidence?
• His storytelling?

An excellent presentation can become a model rather than a verdict on your own ability.

And one more thing: the fact that you admired his presentation says something positive about you. You recognized quality. Now your task is not to become him; it's to let what you observed improve your own work.

May Allah replace this feeling of inadequacy with wisdom and perseverance. Your journey doesn't end because someone else had a strong presentation today. It continues, one revision, one presentation, and one step at a time.

There Will Be Time

 

I know.

They are all
smarter than I am,
their words arriving
faster,
their ideas
sharper.

And I know.

Mister H
speaks with confidence.
He is always present,
always seen.
The professors
lean toward his voice,
their comments
finding him
again and again.

Perhaps
they admire him.

Let them.

Let them be.

I do not need
to compete
for every glance,
every nod,
every word
of approval.

Still—

there are days
when silence
feels personal.

Days when I wonder
if they notice
that I am here.

Days when it feels
as though
I have done nothing,
learned nothing,
become nothing.

My feet hesitate.

My heart refuses
to move forward.

But in the Lord's name,
I remember—

He exists.

He sees
what no one applauds.

He measures
what no one grades.

He prepares
what no one expects.

So I will wait.

Not in defeat,
but in faith.

Because there will be
a time

when my voice
will find its strength,

when my work
will find its purpose,

when my steps
will finally move
forward.

And when that day comes,

it will not be because
I was the loudest.

It will be because
God never stopped
walking beside me.

6 juli 26 senen

 

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5 juli 26 minggu

 

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