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BETWEEN HOLDING ON AND FALLING APART

There’s a quiet pressure I carry in my head almost every day. An unspoken effort to hold things together, to keep the pieces from falling apart — even when no one else seems to notice the cracks. The thing is — people don’t always see things the same way. Some are so caught up in their own lives that they overlook the quiet acts of care and the small sacrifices made for them. Some choose distance, unbothered about the things happening around them. And others carry love in ways that aren’t always visible but it exists in silence, in gestures so subtle they’re often missed. I feel it in the unspoken moments, in little gestures most people might miss. But it hurts to see when those moments get twisted or misunderstood everytime. And here I am, stuck somewhere in between. Trying. Hoping. Pretending I’m okay when honestly, it feels like my head’s slowly coming undone. Maybe one day things will change. Maybe people will notice what others are carrying in quite ways. Maybe heart...
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WHEN WRITING BECAME MY VOICE

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...
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A BATTLEFIELD I CALLED HOME

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...
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SOMETIMES IT'S BETTER TO BE ALONE

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....
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SWEETEST ENEMIES

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...
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YOUR FEARS DON'T DEFINE YOU

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...
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LOVE AT FIRST BITE

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...
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