I kept asking myself these questions for the longest time. Then one fateful day in December 2019, I've finally found my answer.

It was its Arabic name, or maybe us emiratis call it that I don't know, but I learned from my grandmother that it's called hell's flower (جهنمي). Now how can something so beautiful be named after a metaphysical torture chamber?

Growing up, I was made to feel that no matter what I did, it was God's will that I was bound to be in hell. That my life was worthless. Things you can't control, things out of your hand, things you can't help but crave, things I've innocently thought were just nature's will were very much my life sentence. During those early years, I've lost touch with the one and only. How could you do this to me, I thought. Why bring me into this life just to eternally cast me in a fiery pit. That really messed me up. Can I dream of the future? Should I even have goals? Or should I just accept that this is my life now? Live my life knowing that hell is my final resting place no matter what good comes out of it.

As the years passed, our relationship grew thinner. And as the years passed, it was decided that military training was required of all men. So, yes, I know what you're thinking. Why are these two things related? But they are.

Summer of 2016, I went on that military training journey. It was challenging. I had no contact with the outside world. I was in rooms filled with stupid boys. I wanted to disappear so bad. I wanted it to end. It was hard to hide when you felt exposed and threatened to be exposed every second of the day. So I didn't look anyone in the eye. I remember saying to myself the less you say about yourself, the less they'll have to use against you. So I went about my days with that exact game plan. Now during the day, we used to go to the mosque to pray. I started seeing that being in a holy place did not stop them from coming into your space. Looking around the mosque, desperately trying to find a solution. I finally start noticing a few boys holding the Quran and reading in solitude. No one spoke to them. So naturally, I had to do that as well. The first few times I did it, it felt nice. Like finally, they're gone. I was caught up in that excitement of finally finding something during the day that would allow me to have these little moments to myself. Slowly, I started remembering all the verses in the Quran that I liked. It's been a long time since I've last read them. I did not understand half of the things I read, but I kept going. Slowly, it blossomed into something beautiful. I finally understood his words. Verses written in the holy book were magical because you could find the answers you sought or may be needed at that time. I know I was reading words that only made sense to me. Their meaning in my head was so different from what the Islamic scholars used to say they meant. What I needed made complete sense to me. I felt good, wanted, felt precious, and felt like my existence was not some evil plan. I knew that every single person put on earth is worth something. They're meant to exist. It is up to you to define who you are in this lifetime and where you go in the next. It is up to you to determine what religion is to you and how you practice it.