I used to treat being wrong like proof that something was broken in me. Every mistake felt like evidence that I was not trying hard enough, not paying attention, not worthy of trust. I would replay every detail, trying to find the exact moment where I could have chosen differently. I thought that was how…

I have always trusted memory too much. I treated it like a record of what happened, when really, it has always been more like a draft I keep rewriting. Every time I revisit an old moment, I change it a little. I smooth its edges or sharpen them, depending on what I need that day.…

Lately, I have been thinking about how strange it is to lose yourself without realizing it. It does not happen all at once. It happens in tiny exchanges of energy, in quiet compromises that seem harmless at first. A few late nights, a few rushed mornings, one skipped ritual after another. Then one day you…

I used to think the right kind of effort could make everything make sense. That if I tried hard enough, stayed disciplined enough, loved deeply enough, I could finally reach the version of myself who never doubted, never wavered, never looked back. I wanted to believe that the best parts of life waited just beyond…

There was a time when silence felt unbearable. I would fill it without thinking, as if quiet itself were something dangerous. Music in the background. Notifications humming. The soft noise of a world always awake. Stillness felt like a void, something that demanded to be filled before it showed me what lived inside it. I…

There is a thought that has followed me for years. It appears in quiet moments, disguised as logic, but it always carries the same message. If I am not improving, I am falling behind. It sounds harmless, even motivating, but lately I have begun to see how heavy it has become. It has shaped the…

For most of my life, I treated time like an opponent. It was something to race, something to manage, something to discipline into obedience. Every minute had to be accounted for, every hour justified. I told myself that structure was freedom, but it was really fear dressed as control. I was afraid of what would…

There are days when nothing seems to happen, and yet something quiet shifts beneath the surface. The world looks the same, but the way I move through it changes just slightly. It is so subtle that I might miss it if I am not paying attention. Maybe that is the point. The most ordinary moments…

There was a version of me who tried too hard. That version lived in the tension between wanting to be loved and being terrified of being seen. It believed that effort could make worth measurable. If it worked harder, smiled wider, stayed longer, maybe then it would finally be enough. I think about that version…

There was a time when I believed that being good meant being everything for everyone. I learned early that praise came from performance, from doing things right, from being easy to rely on. It felt safe to meet expectations, to be the dependable one, the person who always said yes. Somewhere along the way, I…