The Untold Stories

I’ve always been the type to keep stuff to myself. Not because I wanted to, but honestly, I just didn’t know how to open up. Even my closest friends didn’t really know everything. Little things, big worries, happy moments, sad ones — I just kept it all inside. I grew up like that. Maybe I didn’t want to bother anyone. Or maybe I was just scared they wouldn’t get it. Either way, it became a habit. But after a while, it got heavy. All those thoughts and feelings I never said out loud started piling up. Then one day, I just opened the notes app on my phone and started typing. Just me talking to myself. Saying what hurt, what I missed, what I wished for. Stuff I was too scared to say out loud. And you know what? That felt really good. So I kept doing it. Whenever I felt sad, angry, or even confused about what I was feeling, I would sit at the corner and write. Slowly it became my little safe spot. A place where I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. Then my professor gave us a ch...

I wasn’t looking for anything deep today. I was just scrolling through Instagram to pass time. It’s Sunday — probably one of the most boring days of the week for me. No plans, no excitement. Just endless scrolling to fill the boredom. And then, out of nowhere, I came across a post that made me pause. Those words felt like someone had reached inside my chest and put my entire childhood into a sentence. It was about a girl who was waiting. Waiting for the doors to stop slamming. Waiting for the yelling to stop. Hoping that someone would ask if she was okay. And right then, it hit me right in the heart because that was me. That was my life. I grew up in a house that felt like a battlefield more than a home. I remember, i was waiting too. Waiting for the fights to be over. Waiting for a peaceful day. Waiting for someone to notice the quiet kid sitting in the corner, pretending not to exist. But no one ever did. And for the longest time, I thought it was just me being unlucky to...

Lately, I’ve realised it’s okay to be alone. Not in a sad or angry way — but in a peaceful, quiet way. You don’t always have to surround yourself with people or hold on to every friendship. Sometimes, being alone saves you from overthinking things that don’t deserve that much space in your head. We often expect too much without even noticing it — a message, a call, a little effort. And when it doesn’t come, it hurts more than we care to admit. But here’s the truth: not everyone’s built like you. Some people won’t show up. Some won’t care the way you do. And that’s on them, not you. I’ve learned to let go of expectations. Not because I’ve stopped caring — I still do. But because it hurts less when you stop waiting for people who forget you so easily. It feels lighter when you choose yourself first. Some days, it’s actually nice to be alone. Watch your favourite shows, eat your favourite food, listen to old songs, laugh at your own silly jokes. No explanations, no pretending....

I’ve written about so many things in my life — people I’ve loved, places I’ve missed, moments I’ve cherished. But for some reason, I’ve never written about my sisters. Maybe because it’s hard to put into words what it feels like to have two people who are, at the same time, your biggest enemies and the ones you’d fight the whole world for. They are the people I argue with every day, the ones who drive me insane, steal my stuff, test my patience, and still somehow manage to be my safest place. We fight over the most ridiculous things. Some fights get so serious that we swear not to talk to each other, only to forget about it a few hours later when one of us finds a funny meme or when mom makes something good to eat. That’s just how it is with us — love and hate packed into the same heart, and neither of us knowing how to stay mad for too long. Because no matter how loud the fight or how long the silence lasts, it never feels right when we’re not okay with each other. The thi...

Here’s the thing, nobody is fearless. We all get scared at some point in life, whether it’s about little things like joining a conversation, or bigger things like following a dream. The truth is, fear shows up in all our lives. It whispers doubts in our mind, makes our hearts race, and convinces us that we’re not good enough or not ready yet. But here’s the thing I’ve learned: your fears don’t define you. Your choices do. I used to believe I had to wait until I felt brave enough to start. I thought courage was something that arrived before you took the first step. But I was wrong. Most of the good things in life happen while we’re scared, unsure, and uncertain. The courage comes later — after we make the move. Even now, whenever I sit down to write these blog posts and share my thoughts with the world, a tiny voice inside me asks, “Will anyone care about this? Will this mean anything to someone?” And still — I do it anyway. Because I’ve realized fear shrinks when you face i...

Okay, let me honest now — I’m not the kind of person who experiments with food. You know those people who walk into a restaurant, scan the menu like it’s a mystery novel, and pick something new every time? Yeah… that’s not me. I’m the loyal, safe-ordering type. If I find one thing I like, I’ll stick to it like it’s a lifetime contract. No risks. No regrets. Back when I was a kid, my family friends would drag me to KFC. While everyone else munched on crispy fried chicken, licking their fingers like it was the last meal on Earth, there I was — quietly sipping my Pepsi, minding my own business, judging them for getting so emotional over a piece of chicken. But life has a funny way of humbling you. One fine day, out of pure boredom (or maybe peer pressure — still unclear), I took a bite of that golden, crunchy, perfectly seasoned KFC fried chicken. And just like that… BOOM. My whole world flipped. I saw colors. I heard a romantic violin playing in the background. I swear, if so...

Some people helped me through the hardest moments of my life, and today, I just want to say thank you. Some of you are still around. Some aren’t. And that’s okay. Life took us different ways. Maybe time and distance changed how we show up for each other. But no matter where you are now, I carry you with me. When I was falling apart, you were there. You showed up when everything felt too heavy and my heart hurt in ways I can’t explain. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes just by being there, even if you didn’t know what to say. You stayed on the phone when I had nothing to talk about. You reminded me — in your own ways — that I was still here, still breathing, and could get through one more day. You didn’t have all the answers. You couldn’t fix everything. And you didn’t have to. What mattered is that you stayed. Or that you showed up when I needed someone most, even if neither of us realized it at the time. A lot of the strength I have today, I owe to yo...

Sometimes, i don't even know why, home just feels heavy. No matter how much I try to keep things smooth, something little always happens — a word, a look, or just one of those unexpected moments and boom, everything feels tense all over again. And I’m sitting here, asking myself, why does it always end like this? I love them, I really do. But man, it gets exhausting sometimes. The way things play out makes me wonder if I messed up somewhere… if I could’ve handled it better. And even when it’s not really my fault, I still feel bad. Like maybe I should’ve seen it coming, or kept my mouth shut. And honestly, there’s a part of me that gets angry too. Not at them, but at the whole situation. At how it takes one tiny thing for everything to fall apart. It’s really weird to feel mixed emotions like sadness, guilty, and annoyance all together. But.. yeah, at the end of the day, they’re still my people, my family. The ones I care about, even when things get messy. And maybe it’s...

I’ve always been waiting for my college life to end. From the very first semester, I knew this wasn’t my place. I didn’t click with the people. I never really enjoyed the atmosphere. And for years, I’ve counted down — hoping for this chapter to be over. And now, here I am. In just two weeks, I’ll be stepping into my final year of college. The finish line is so close, only one year to go and I should feel nothing but happiness. Right? But it’s not that simple. Of course, I feel happy. I’ve wanted this for so long. But along with that happiness, there’s this strange mix of emotions. Sadness, nervousness, and a quiet fear I can’t fully explain. Maybe it’s the concept that even a place you disliked becomes a part of you when you’ve been there for so long. Or maybe it’s the idea of moving on — because no matter how badly we want to leave certain phases of our lives, the unknown that waits on the other side always feels a little scary. I’m starting to realize it’s normal to feel...