Posts

The weight

-
It isn’t the silence itself that suffocates; it’s what silence leaves behind. It carves out spaces where thoughts have nowhere to go but inward, and you are left alone with them. Alone with yourself. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Being alone with yourself. Not because you can’t stand the quiet, but because in the quiet, everything you’ve been trying to outrun finally catches up. The doubts come first. Soft, insidious things that don’t announce themselves with grandeur but seep in like water through cracked walls. Why don’t they call? Why don’t they notice? The questions arrive like familiar strangers, and you let them in because you have nothing else to fill the silence with. You know these questions don’t have answers, or at least not answers that you would dare admit aloud. I have been in rooms so quiet I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears, rooms where even the hum of a refrigerator felt like an intrusion. And yet, those rooms were loud compared to the noise in my own head. T
Post a Comment
Read more

I AM

-
I am a collection of unfinished stories, scattered thoughts written on the margins of a life I’m still trying to understand. I wake up each day with the quiet hope that I’ll find clarity, though I know I am drawn to the uncertain. I want to create, to build, to express, but I am afraid that what I produce won’t live up to the beauty of the vision in my mind. That fear lives with me, shaping my choices, defining my hesitations. I’ve always gravitated toward creating: writing stories, weaving words into shapes that reflect my inner world. Yet even here, doubt whispers. My inspirations come from the characters I’ve read, their voices louder than my own. I write, hoping to find myself in the process, but sometimes it feels like I’m only tracing the outlines of others. I wonder if I have an original voice or if I’ll always be a shadow of what I admire. My heart beats for connection, but I am cautious. I am drawn to people but fear their judgment. In love, I am steady yet vulnerable, holding
Post a Comment
Read more

A silent night

-
The night doesn’t speak. It waits. It presses in on you, not with sound, but with its absence, a stillness so profound it feels like suffocation. A silent night is not peaceful. It is not the quiet of a world at rest but the quiet of something missing, something that should be here but isn’t. You can feel the weight of it, the way it holds you captive in your own skin, pressing your thoughts inward until they spill out, unbidden and unrelenting. I’ve spent so many nights like this, sitting in the kind of silence that hums with questions no one is there to answer. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I do the wrong thing? Will I ever find a way to stop feeling like this? The questions don’t care about timing. They come when the world is still, when there’s nothing to distract you, nothing to drown them out. There was a time when I found solace in the night. I told myself that it was a refuge, a break from the chaos of the day. But now I know better. Night doesn’t bring clarity; it only sharpe
Post a Comment
Read more

Silence

-
There is a kind of silence that isn’t just the absence of sound, but an entity in itself, a presence so heavy, so tactile, it presses against your chest and makes you wonder if this is what drowning feels like. It’s in the gaps between words, the breath you hold before saying something that might unravel everything. I’ve come to understand that silence is less an empty room and more an overstuffed drawer, filled with fragments of things we cannot bear to throw away. This realization doesn’t come all at once. It comes late, maybe when you’re sitting alone at a table set for two, staring at the seat across from you, waiting for someone who won’t come. It comes in the middle of a conversation where the pauses stretch too long, not out of comfort but hesitation, both of you weighing the cost of what comes next. It’s in the spaces where truth might live, if only we dared to let it out. I once read that silence can hold more than noise ever could, and I’ve found this to be true. Silence hold
Post a Comment
Read more

Loneliness is suffocating

-
It begins quietly, almost imperceptibly. Loneliness doesn’t announce itself with grand gestures or heavy footsteps. It seeps in like smoke under a door, curling around the edges of your thoughts, filling the spaces you didn’t know were empty. You try to breathe through it, but it clings to your lungs, making each inhalation feel heavier than the last. Loneliness isn’t just the absence of people, it’s the absence of connection. You can sit in a crowded room and feel it pressing against your chest, tighter and tighter, until you wonder if anyone notices you struggling to catch your breath. You smile, nod, and laugh at the right moments, all while feeling like a ghost haunting a life that no longer belongs to you. There was a time, not long ago, when I thought loneliness was a state you could escape with enough effort. I believed in distractions: busy schedules, endless to-do lists, phone calls to fill the silence. But distractions are slippery. They work for a while, and then suddenly, t
Post a Comment
Read more

Sadness: A silent companion

-
In life, there exists an undeniable rhythm, a pulsing current that moves us forward, sometimes dragging us along, sometimes allowing us to glide. This rhythm is marked by an unspoken truth: joy is fleeting, a spark that appears in the high-noon of triumph but flickers out in the twilight of our struggles. Sadness, however, is the companion that lingers. It doesn’t ask for your permission, doesn’t knock politely at the door. Sadness is there, always, waiting to wrap its familiar arms around you. I think of those moments when joy came to me, moments adorned with ribbons of laughter and garlands of achievement. The celebrations, the victories, the good news that felt almost too good to be true. Yet even in those moments, joy felt fragile, like a fragile glass bird perched on a windowsill. I couldn’t help but glance at it sideways, afraid it might shatter at the faintest gust of wind. And often, it did. The phone call with bad news came, the memory of a past mistake resurfaced, or the inex
Post a Comment
Read more

The opposite of love

-
They say the opposite of love is hate, but that’s too clean, too easy. Hate is noisy, hate demands attention. It burns hot, yes, but it still cares. It still looks for a reaction, still seeks the other in its destruction. Indifference, on the other hand, is cold, quiet, and absolute. It is the absence, not the inverse, of love. I’ve thought about this often, usually at times when love feels far away. There’s a peculiar kind of pain in realizing you’re not hated, just forgotten. Hate acknowledges your existence; it says, You mattered enough for me to feel this strongly. But indifference? Indifference is the erasure of all that, the closing of a door you didn’t even know was there. You can feel it most in the silences, I think. Not the charged silences of anger, when words hang unsaid in the air like a storm about to break, but the other kind. The kind where the space between two people becomes an unbridgeable chasm, not out of conflict, but apathy. The kind where you look at someone and
Post a Comment
Read more