The Untold Stories

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...

You know, some moments pass so quietly, you don’t realize their weight until you pause and truly feel them. Two days back, my mum, my boyfriend, and I went out for a simple walk. There was no special occasion, no particular plan. We just shared a need to step out together. And in the middle of that ordinary evening, something extraordinary happened. I watched my boyfriend gently reach out and hold my mum’s hand to steady her as they walked. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t meant for a photograph or anyone’s attention. It was natural, effortless — and in that small, tender act, the world seemed to slow down around them. I instinctively took a photo. And when I looked at it later, I saw more than just a captured moment. I saw my heart. Because if I’m being honest, when I first introduced them, I carried a quiet kind of fear. It's not because I doubted him, but because I cared so deeply about how they might connect. I wanted them to feel at ease with each other. To sha...

I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while, but every time I open social media, it keeps showing up again and again. And it hurts a little more every time. I’ve seen women getting cheated on — not just by boyfriends, but by fiancés, and even husbands. What’s shocking is that these aren’t couples who look unhappy. Some of these women are probably the most beautiful women you’ll ever see. Some of these men have written books, poems, and long posts about how much they love their partners. They flood their feeds with cute pictures and long, cheesy captions about how in love they are. And then, behind all that, their eyes are still wandering. Probably always have. And I don’t get it — how? How can someone have everything and still betray it? How can someone promise the world to a person, make them feel safe, only to go behind their back? It scares me sometimes. Even though I trust my boyfriend and he’s nothing like that, it still creeps into my mind. What if one day? What...

It’s strange how a single line from a song can find the exact place you’ve been trying to hide from. That’s how I felt when I heard Half A Man by Dean Lewis for the first time. “But how am I supposed to love you when I don’t love who I am?” That line hit right into my heart. Not because they were beautiful or well-written — but because they were me. Word for word, feeling for feeling. It felt like someone reached inside me, grabbed the mess I’ve been hiding, and said it out loud. I’ve carried this heaviness inside for a long time. Most people won’t see it. I laugh, I talk, I act like everything’s fine. But inside, I fight this voice that constantly tells me I’m not enough. That I'm too insecure, too uncertain to be loved properly. And when you feel like that, being in love with someone who sees you as everything is both beautiful and terrifying. Because you start to wonder how can I hold onto something this good, when I’m not even sure about myself? How do I give someon...

There’s this quiet kind of pain that hits when you put your heart into something, but nobody really notices. You share what you made, hoping someone will see it, feel it, or just get it. But the world stays quiet. Like you’re talking to an empty room. It’s not about wanting a standing ovation or people always hyping you up. It’s just hoping that maybe, somewhere, your words could connect with someone — even just one person. And when that doesn’t happen, yeah, it stings. Not because you regret doing it, but because it meant something to you. Maybe that’s just how it goes sometimes. Not everything gets noticed right away. Some things take time. Some things find their way to the right person when they need it the most. And while you wait, you keep doing your thing. You keep creating. You keep sharing your voice — not just for others, but for yourself. Because your voice matters, even if it only fills the quiet.