Islam will finally be the death of me

Islam has already stolen so much from me; my childhood, my safety, my freedom. But now, it’s going to kill me.

Ramadan has started, and like every year, I’m being forced to fast against my will. My abusive family doesn’t care that I have a chronic illness. They don’t care that fasting makes my condition worse. They don’t care that I’m starving, weak, feverish, and barely able to function. The only thing that matters to them is Islam. The only thing that matters to them is controlling me.

There’s barely any food in the house, and even when it’s time to break the fast, my mother rations and controls what I can eat. I have no choice. No way out. No way to fight back. My body is shutting down. I feel like I’m dying. And no one cares.

People see posts like mine and say, “just leave.” As if leaving is an option. As if I haven’t spent years searching for a way out, looking for asylum, begging for help. But instead of support, I get ignored. Instead of help, I get accused of being a liar, a scammer, an attention-seeker. Because in the eyes of the world, an ex-Muslim suffering under Islamic abuse doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.

And the funniest part? I’m not even expecting anything anymore. I know no one is going to help me. I know people would rather give me useless advice than actually do something. I know I’m alone in this.

So yeah. Islam will finally be the death of me. Because that’s what it was always designed to do.