pixabay On Caturday, I think about the quiet lives we ignore. Where I come from, a stray cat is rarely just a cat, it carries stories people didn’t write but somehow believe and whispers of bad luck,

pixabay On this particular day, we were to prepare that delicacy, but Mum wasn’t around. In our heads, it felt simple, after all, we had watched her do it countless times, how hard could it be? We gathered

Image of me I used to think staying made me strong, I stayed through the late replies I explained away, the apologies that sounded rehearsed, the silence that felt louder than words. I stayed when my friends

pixabay The first time I lied, it didn’t feel like a sin, it felt like me being merciful. My mother stood in the doorway that evening, her eyes searching mine with a question she was too afraid to fully

pixabay We live in a world that quietly celebrates silent struggle. From a young age, many of us are taught directly or indirectly in that strength means figuring everything out on our own. So we learn

pixabay It was supposed to be a quick nap, you know the kind you tell yourself “just five minutes or ten minutes rest and you'll be up” after a long day, when your body feels heavier than your thoughts.

pixabay I used to think that being a woman was something you “arrive” at, like there’s a moment where you finally get it right where you become the perfect daughter to your parent, the perfect wife to

A picture of me I used to think intelligence was just about grades, like if you didn’t score high, didn’t come out on top, then maybe you just weren’t that smart. I didn’t say it out loud, but I carried

A picture of me I did not learn about family from books, learnt it from watching women who never called themselves teachers, yet taught me everything. I remember my grandmother, my father’s mother sitting

pixabay I remember the night I finally asked about the world war, it wasn’t planned. The power had gone out, and the house sat in a quiet that felt too heavy for ordinary conversation. Outside, the wind

Grandma always counted the food after dinner. "No one cheats this house,” she’d say with warning. One night, the numbers didn’t add up but no one confessed. At midnight, I heard plates clink in the

Rewriting the Habit That Controls Your Life A picture of me There’s something you do every day, softly, almost invisibly that is shaping your life more than your dreams ever have. And it doesn’t look

A picture of me ‎ ‎There was a time I only paid attention to my body when it started indicating signs, during headaches, when the exhaustion settled in, when everything in me slowed down without permission,

The earth shook under war cries, arrows raining like fire. Pain tore through him, yet he charged, every wound fueling fury. Around him fell enemies, one by one, until the battlefield bowed to his unstoppable

A picture of me... There’s something quiet about preparing for a birthday before it arrives, no candles yet, no noise. Just you, standing in between who you’ve been and who you’re becoming. The 1st of

‎ pixabay We need to exercise, but not just our bodies ‎ ‎The first time my body protested, I ignored it. ‎ ‎It wasn’t loud, just a quiet resistance the kind that shows up when climbing stairs feels heavier

A five minutes writing Splash It started with a feeling I couldn’t explain, not pain, just a quiet awareness that something about my life didn’t fit. From the outside, we were a normal family. Dinner at

pixabay I remember the day my home room teacher told me my work lacked color, but I had spent hours on it, carefully shaping each line, pressing my pencil just enough to leave a mark that felt honest.

pixabay Positivity is often presented as something simple, smile more, think better, stay hopeful and encouraging but the reality is rarely that neat. Sometimes, what looks like positivity on the surface

pixabay “Strap yourself in,” he said but it was already late in that time didn’t slow down it's tick; it shattered. My scream wasn’t fear, it was realisation at every ignored warning, every rushed decision,