How often do we victimize ourselves or talk about the situations where we were the victim and people did bad things to us? But how often do we talk or even think about the times when we were also an evildoer in someone else’s life?

One idea that i believe the world revolves around — and also most of us can agree upon — is that none of us are perfect and we all carry flaws

Lately, I’ve been thinking about each and every flaw of mine . Times when I could be a better person but I chose to go with my evil side . It is my belief that every person carries both light and darkness within them.

We are all humans and we carry both light and dark inside us; that is exactly what makes us human . We cannot be right all the time. Out of 100% at least 1% of the time we will be wrong and that is completely fine. However doing something that is not right is not the real issue; the issue is when we do not correct the darkness inside us or try to emerge from it. Being wrong isn’t the failure — being okay with staying wrong is the true problem.

We all like to cast ourselves as the hero, but if I look closely at my life I can see the exact moments my halo slipped. There are specific moments that still haunt me, times when I knew better but I chose the darker path anyway.

In moments of recklessness, when my dark side took over, I made choices i can never take back. I’ve been a person that my younger self would have hated completely. I’ve allowed myself to become consumed of envy. I’ve lied to people. I have talked badly behind people’s back. I’ve had grudges against people. I’ve judged people. I’ve gossiped about things i never knew were true or not. I’ve hated on people. I’ve had thoughts that I’m better than someone else in many ways. I’ve hurt people through arguments or the way i communicated. I’ve been an absent friend to the people who where there for me when i needed them the most. I’ve taken my frustation out on people close to me. I’ve spoken to my parents in anger . I’ve shouted at my parents. I’ve broken hearts of people who used to come up to me out of love and generosity. I’ve taken the trust of my parents for granted and I’ve broken their trust in many ways.

And the list goes on.

I’ve list of things inside me that are dark and I’ve also list of things inside me that are full of light which I will talk about some other day , but today speaking of my evil side. I’m not proud of all these evil parts of me and I’ve tried to emerge from them.

I cannot undo my past but i can control who i become tomorrow.

To emerge from this darkness, I am trying not to follow the herd or gossip whenever I sit in a group or with an individual . I am stopping myself from judging people. I am trying not to have grudges against anyone and remember that they are human too and have their own problems. I am trying to be available for people as much as I can but without throwing myself under the bus or letting anyone take advantage of me. I am trying my best to be honest and not lie. I am also working hard to control my anger so I don’t take it out on my parents anymore. Instead of hating, I try to speak nicely and stay calm during arguments. At the end of the day, I am only human. Like I said before, I can’t be right 100% of the time. I still make mistakes in some places, but the important thing is that I am trying, and I will keep trying.

What i’ve come to believe is

In my eyes, no one is entirely a good person or entirely a bad person. We all have both light and darkness inside us. We are not bad people; we are just human beings, and humans are never perfect. The most important thing is that we never stop trying to fade that darkness and emerge into the light.

Before we get into why i love love , let's first ask ourselves: What is love?

Is it the butterflies everyone talks about? or is it something much quieter—something that can’t be captured in a single definition?

maybe love isn’t one thing at all

maybe love is being understood without having to explain yourself. Love is choosing, choosing to stay through difficult conversations, choosing patience over pride, choosing love over ego.

Every day, love whispers,“i don't have to— but i want to”

Love makes us give the best of our self

Love is more than a feeling, more than a word, love can be anything and everything;

Love isn’t perfect.

It doesn’t mean never arguing or never making mistakes. It means choosing each other even after the hard days. It means growing together instead of growing apart.

Maybe that’s the beauty of love—it can’t be confined to a definition. It has to be felt. And perhaps that’s why I’ve always been in love with love itself.

The quiet beauty of loving love

The idea of being so close to someone that their silence speaks louder than words. Of knowing what they’re feeling before they say a thing. Of understanding the emotions they can’t explain, and becoming a place where they never have to.

I love the thought of learning someone so deeply that you know exactly how to comfort them after a hard day, what makes them laugh when they’re trying not to cry, and what kind of hug says more than a thousand reassuring words.

It has a strange way of turning ordinary moments into unforgettable memories. A five-minute conversation, a random walk,a gentle glance across the room, checking if they’ve eaten, or simply sitting beside them in comfortable silence. someone remembering your favorite snack, or helping you cross a road or updating you about their days—none of these things are extraordinary on their own. Yet when they’re done by someone you love, they become moments you’ll carry with you forever.

To me, love has never been about perfection. It’s about choosing each other every day. It’s about being patient, kind, and willing to grow together. It’s knowing that someone sees every version of you—the messy, the vulnerable, the joyful—and still chooses to stay.

Yearning for the person you love

There is something strangely beautiful about yearning.

Not the kind that hurts, but the kind that quietly reminds you how deeply someone has become a part of your life. It’s missing them before they’ve even left, reaching for your phone because they’re the first person you want to tell about your day, or wishing they were beside you. I love how love makes you crave someone’s presence—not because you can’t exist without them, but because life feels softer when they’re around. It’s counting the hours until you see them again, smiling at memories that no one else would understand, and realizing that your favorite place isn’t really a place at all—it’s wherever they are. Sometimes, yearning isn’t about missing someone from a distance. It’s missing them even after a fight, quietly hoping they’ll be the one to come back first—not because your ego won’t let you, but because there’s something so comforting about being reminded that, despite everything, they still choose you and they'll remind you, ‘‘We're okay, i'm still here”

It’s cringe until it happens to you

And honestly. I couldn’t agree more. I never really understood why people talked so much about love. The butterflies, the little gestures, the random smiles—they all seemed a little exaggerated to me. But then love happened. And somewhere along the way, I realized that the things I once dismissed weren’t exaggerated at all. They were simply emotions I had never experienced before. Once I did, they stopped feeling cringey and started feeling beautiful.

i fell in love with the concept of love even more after falling in love

I was a girl full of life and spark that people could feel my energy before I even said a word.

I could light up a room without even trying. I laughed loudly, talked endlessly, and found joy in the smallest things. I loved entertaining people, and somehow, people loved being around me. I didn’t absorb negativity. I didn’t carry other people’s moods, opinions, or energy with me. It was just me and the sun i carried inside me , a quiet light that warmed and brightened everyone who came near it

Today, I am almost the opposite of who I used to be.

I absorb bad energy too easily. A single negative comment can stay in my mind for days. Small problems feel heavier than they once did. Sometimes I find myself focusing on everything that is wrong instead of everything that is right.

And that is what confuses me the most.

How did the girl who found happiness everywhere become someone who struggles to find it within herself? How did the child who carried sunshine so effortlessly become someone who feels weighed down by clouds?

Sometimes I wonder where I left that version of myself.

The saddest part is that I became the person I once promised myself I would never become. Somewhere along the way, I became the very person I never wanted to be. Sometimes, I ask myself what forced me to become someone like this.

I’ve become someone I used to hate.

Someone with big dreams but no motivation to chase them. Someone with so much love to give, yet too tired to deal with people’s moods and tantrums. Someone who values friendships deeply and calls everyone a friend, yet struggles to figure out who is truly a good friend for her. Someone who used to smile no matter what, but now absorbs every bit of bad energy around her. Sometimes I wonder how it happened. How the girl who once found joy in the smallest things became someone who overthinks everything. How the girl who wanted to keep people forever became someone who questions whether they’ll still be around in future.

I used to be a pocket full of sunshine.

It was just me and the sun I carried inside me, a light that brightened everyone around me. I never realized how precious it was because I thought it would always be there.

Now, I find myself asking the same question over and over again:

Where did the sun go that I carried inside me?

Somewhere along the way, I became someone I barely recognized. I started distancing myself from people and as someone who used to talk so much and be around people all the time, its difficult to believe i turned out to be someone like this. Instead of looking forward to new connections, I found myself wondering, Will this person still be in my life six months from now? The girl who once wanted to keep everyone forever had learned to expect goodbyes because she lost people who were the source of happiness to her and maybe that’s where i lost myself?

Because, as a person who is forever a museum of people i have had,

How do you lose someone who knew you before the world changed you? Someone who saw your entire childhood, watched you grow up, knew how bubbly and full of life you were, how you never stayed quiet, and how no harsh word could ever shake your spirit. Someone who knew the girl who answered every criticism with grace, confidence, and a smile. How do you say goodbye to someone who knew the version of you that you’re now trying so hard to find again?

Now, i see myself through the eyes of people who make me question my worth. Their words, actions, and energy towards me left me carrying doubts I was never meant to carry. Slowly, I started finding flaws in everything — in myself, in others, in the world around me. I started shouting at my own family, i started getting irritated easily, i liked being alone , i liked silence. Happiness no longer came naturally. Trust no longer came easily.

When I was younger, I believed relationships were safe places. I believed people stayed. I believed love, friendship, and care looked the way I imagined they would. But growing up introduced me to a different reality. Some people left. Some people disappointed me. Some people made me feel smaller than I was.

And little by little, the world quieted me.

The light I carried so effortlessly began to dim. The sunshine that once spilled out of me seemed harder to find. Sometimes I wonder if the world took it from me, or if I gave it away trying to hold on to people who were never meant to stay

And that’s when i ask myself, “ where did i leave the sun i carried?”

‘ I do not know the answer ’

What I do know is that she existed. The girl full of sunshine was real. The laughter was real. The happiness was real.

And maybe that means the sunshine isn’t gone forever.

Maybe it is simply waiting to be found again.

But this is not where my story ends.

Layla was the first animal I ever truly connected with as a child and as a human being. The first one I tried to carry, hold close or even touch, and treat her like family. I spent countless hours running after her, annoying her, and playing with her. I know Layla you used to think i was so annoying right?

I entered that house and no matter how late it was what things i had to do or how busy i was, my first question used to be "Layla kaha hai? (where is layla?), one of the first things i had to do was see her

I used to irritate her a lot. I would run after her, play with her. I would use my dupatta as a toy, tossing one end toward her and watching her jump, catch it, and play along. I miss making her fall asleep on my lap. I miss lying down and letting her sleep on my stomach. I remember staying completely still, barely breathing, because I didn't want to wake her. It felt like I was holding something precious, something that trusted me enough to rest peacefully beside me. I remember letting her sniff my hand before feeding her. I would place food on my palm so she could eat directly from it. I would give her treats and sit beside her for hours. These moments may seem small to others, but to me, they were everything.

I remember how sadly you looked at me with those eyes whenever you had to stay home alone. I would come up to you, say sorry, and give you lots of hugs and kisses. But the truth is that Layla gave me far more comfort than I ever gave her. She hugged me without hugs. She loved me without words. Her presence alone made me feel less alone. During some of the weakest moments of my life, I cried in front of her. Somehow, she became the sibling I never had. Things i never told any human, i told you, my dreams, my complaints, my fears and my insecurity and you just looked at me with those beautiful eyes.

Sometimes I would see her only once every few weeks, sometimes I would spend five days straight with her. Yet every time I entered that house, the first thing I looked for was Layla.

I miss seeing you hide behind things and climb to the top of house whenever I entered the house and how i used to play cat sound on spotify to get you down or trap you to get to me. I miss helping you escape from the kids when they were bothering you. As if I wasn't also the one who annoyed you, maybe i was jealous too. I didn't want to share you with anyone because, in my heart, it felt like I was the one closest to you, and I wanted to keep that bond all to myself.

today sitting here on my bed i'm just question, who I'll do all these things with now. Who will I call over using those cat sounds from Spotify? Who will chase the end of my dupatta when I throw it for them to catch? Who will sniff my hand before taking food from it? Who will fall asleep on my lap while I sit completely still, afraid to wake them up?

I used to complain to my cousin brother everything every cloth you buy for has this scent of Layla, acting as if I didn't like it. Maybe it was my way of pretending to be tougher than I really was. Everyone probably thought I was just annoyed by you or that I loved bothering you, but the truth was the complete opposite. I loved you more than I ever let anyone see

The last time we met, you gave me a scratch on my hand. I wish it were still there. I wish I could keep it forever, but I can't. So instead, I promise to carve you and your memories into my heart forever, my kid.

Seeing you lying there today with your eyes still open broke my heart. I wish I could have held you one last time, Layla. I wish I had held you a little tighter the last time we met, because I never knew it would be the last time I would see you, the last time I would have you around,

If only I had known it would be our last goodbye

we will meet again in jannah~

When I was in ninth grade, someone I love with all my capacity to love and I tied red strings around our little fingers. We had just started talking, and saw a reel about red string theory, we decided to tie a red string on each other’s littel finger, little did we know that Al-Khāliq has already tied us with his own pen

According to an old East Asian legend, two people who are destined to meet are connected by an invisible red thread tied around their fingers. The thread may stretch, tangle, or twist, but it never breaks. At the time, it felt like a cute tradition. Years later, it felt like something more.

Long before we learned each other's names, our paths, our meetings, and every turn in between were already known to Him. Looking back now, it sometimes feels as though we were simply walking toward a moment He had already written.

مكتوب

Why do you worry? For "If something is destined for you, never in a million years will it be for somebody else." It's written

Long before heaven and hell was created, we had our names written with eachother with his Al- Qalam

The strange thing is that our story did not begin when we met. It began long before either of us knew the other's name in Alam al-Arwah. (the “realm of souls”)

We were where our paths could have crossed again and again. Yet somehow, we remained strangers and at the right time we met

Sometimes I look back at our story and wonder if all those missed encounters were never truly missed at all, but simply moments leading us to the time Allah had chosen.

And even when life later pulled us apart, somehow it brought us back together again.

It was never a coincedence or never it was the invisible red string

It was him Al - Khaliq and his Al-Qalam

Lately, I've realized that being a human is much more complicated than people make it seem

We're told to be good children, good friends, good students, good partners, and good people. At the same time, we're expected to understand our own emotions, heal from our own struggles, work toward our goals, and somehow keep everything balanced.

The problem is that life doesn't hand us these responsibilities one by one. They arrive all at once.

Some days, I'm worried about my own problems. Other days, I'm thinking about the people who stood by me when I was struggling and wondering whether I'm doing enough for them now. Sometimes I want to be there for everyone I care about, but I barely understand what I'm feeling myself.

Sometimes i feel i'm not enough for them and but sometimes i also feel i am not someone who needs to be judged i did what i could.

What makes it harder is that guilt seems to follow us everywhere. We feel guilty when we prioritize ourselves. We feel guilty when we can't help others. We feel guilty when we're not productive enough, kind enough, patient enough, or grateful enough.

But maybe that's because we're measuring ourselves against an impossible standard.

Being human isn't a single job. It's a thousand jobs happening at the same time.

It's trying to be a good daughter while figuring out who you are. It's trying to be dependable friend while carrying your own worries. It's wanting to give back to the people who once helped you, even when you're still learning how to help yourself.

I've spent a lot of time thinking that if I were better organized, stronger, kinder, or more mature, I would finally get everything right. But the older I get, the more I realize that nobody gets everything right.

The people we admire are not the people who perfectly balance every role in their lives. They're the people who continue showing up despite failing, despite being overwhelmed, and despite knowing they can't be everything to everyone.

Maybe that's what being human really is.

Not perfection.

Just effort.

Just trying again tomorrow.

One of the hardest parts of being human is carrying the weight of relationships.

Sometimes people show up for us when we're at our lowest. They listen to our endless stories, sit with us through heartbreak, defend us when nobody else does, and remind us who we are when we've forgotten. Then life moves on, and suddenly we find ourselves wondering whether we've been there for them in the same way, because maybe they made us feel we're not enough? or maybe sometimes we also feel we weren't a good friend that day and these both feelings together make us feel we are not enough

I've learned that gratitude can sometimes turn into guilt.

Not because we don't appreciate the people who helped us, but because we start keeping score in our heads. They remember every kindness they showed us and compare it to every moment we weren't available, every message we replied to late, every time we were too consumed by our own problems to notice theirs

Being human means existing in that uncomfortable space where you can love people deeply and still disappoint them. You can care about someone and still make mistakes. You can be grateful for a friendship and still fail to show up perfectly.

For a long time, I thought being a good person meant never letting anyone down. But that's an impossible standard. We are all carrying private battles that nobody else can fully see.

Perhaps being a good friend, a good daughter, or simply a good human isn't about getting it right every time. Perhaps it's about continuing to care, continuing to learn, and having the courage to admit when we've fallen short.

Because at the end of the day, being human is not about perfection, it's about trying

in the end i want to say-

As a human, you are not a being, you are a becoming, an ongoing process. Nothing is fixed - you can be whichever wαy you wαnt to be

(i’m not perfect but i’m trying and i promise not to judge me for anyone else and any disappointment i caused)