A Quote by Malina Suliman

For those 10 months back in Afghanistan after university, I felt I had no rights. It felt like I didn't exist. It was like I was their doll, and I was lost, somehow. My sister's husband brought me to an art gallery. It had a big effect on me.
What was wrong with me? I had a decent life. I was healthy. I wasn't starving or maimed by a land mine or orphaned. Yet somehow, it wasn't enough. I had a hole in me, and everything I took for granted slipped through it like sand. I felt like I had swallowed yeast, like whatever evil was festering inside me had doubled in size.
The Catcher in the Rye had such a deep impact on me, because it felt like it was just Holden and me. I didn't feel like any other person had read that book. It felt like my secret. Writing that I identify with feels like it's just me and the writer. So I hope that whoever is reading what I do feels like that.
As things grew for me I felt like I was losing myself and wanted to stay true to myself as well. I didn't want to lose any connection I had with the audience. I felt small on a big stage and I felt like I was peaking generically to an audience.
I was 22 when my mother gave me the original box set of 'Roots' and she said, 'I want you to watch this.' I watched the whole thing back to back in the span of 24 hours. It had a profound effect on me. It felt like my story.
Anger is about fairness. If it feels that you're getting ripped off or taken advantage of, that's when anger comes up. Sadness deals with loss. And I suddenly had this new revelation - it felt like to me - that those are all true, but the real, deeper reason we have emotions is to connect us together. And that felt big to me.
I too was frightened the first time I felt I hated my father. I felt like a criminal. But could I help it what was inside of me? I had to feel what I felt even if it killed me.
More than his exterior hit me. I felt warm and safe just being with him. He brought comfort after my terrible day. So often with other people I felt a need to be center of attention, to be funny and always have something clever to say. It was a habit I needed to shake. But with him I never felt like I had to be anything more than what I already was. I didn’t have to entertain him or think up jokes or even flirt. It was enough to just be together, to be so completely comfortable in each other’s presence—we lost all sense of self-consciousness.
My grandmother had a Ph.D in library science, so I grew up in a library, and I would appreciate those books and the smell of them and how they'd have these series, and it was cool to me. I always felt like, if I had an opportunity, I'd create an album that felt like a series.
As a kid, I felt like I had no voice, felt like I had no options, and that's what drove me to this really dark place.
I encountered producers who wanted to hang out after we worked, and when I refused, they wouldn't let me come back and work again... I would've have way more opportunities if I had succumbed. But it never felt right. I always felt like I was going to be successful, and I didn't want to compromise my morals.
Even when we were at that point when we had very few fans, we never felt like a small band. We always felt like we had a big purpose.
My art teacher was really encouraging me, because he really liked that I could draw. I felt very torn. At that time, I had to pick one, and I felt much more confident in the arts than I did in chemistry. My big thing was that I actually wanted to be like Jacques Cousteau.
I remember seeing Janet McTeer in A Doll's House. My grandmother took me and we had seats in the very back row, but her performance was so powerful - it was very accessible. I felt like I was much closer than I was.
Certainly something had happened to me during the night. Or after months of tension I had arrived at the edge of some precipice and now I was falling, as in a dream slowly, even as I continued to hold the thermometer in my hand, een as I stood with the soles of my slippers on the floor, even as I felt myself solidly contained by the expectant looks of my children. It was the fault of the torture that my husband had inflicted. But enough, I had to tear the pain from memory, I had to sandpaper away the scratches that were damaging my brain.
I felt I had nothing more to say. Everything would have had to be a replay of the previous two or three albums, and that decided me to stop. What bothered me most was not playing guitar at all anymore. I felt I had no more contact with the instrument. It was just a piece of wood to me. I even thought music had definitely left me. After fourteen albums, there may be an overload phase, a sort of lassitude.
I felt my personal life was not what it should be. It had nothing to do with Mr. Show - I'm monstrously appreciative and understand what it did for me and to me - but after four years, I just felt like I needed to do something else. I guess I wanted to be in a different place, physically.
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