My dreams show you with a blurred face
I don’t know you
But still feels so close somehow
with an unknown, unheard feeling

Our souls touched even before we met
Suddenly all the love songs are about you
My mind always hums the melody of your name
but still blurred

Who are you darling?

Nobody ever made sense to my soul but you.
I told the universe about you
I prayed to god about you
Still knowing nothing about you
Nothing

That’s the art of loving someone you don’t even know
The art of feeling loved by someone you don’t know
The art of suffering because you don’t know who

Is that art?

A love I could never touch
A person who will never know my heart’s rhythm
A person doesn’t even know me
Even I don’t know your mysteries

If I ever search love,
I’ll be searching the pieces of you in everyone I meet

It isn’t easy
An easy love is never real

In your words I discover the poetry of love
And I’m poisoned by that
It’s the only poetry my heart wants

Let my poem have you

I don’t think it’ll ever be

“Poet married her poem”

If I drown in your poetry
Will you find me?
Will you save me?
Will I be your poem?

We were kissed by poems
And taken away by seas of prose

I wish my poetry had touched you
where your hands couldn’t

I can turn you into poetry
but cannot make you love me or know me

I wish this explained a lot
which words couldn’t

And just like that…
it’s the end of all..

Let the poem have you

To readers:

Life smells like love when you see the beauty in everything. Even in the saddest parts of love.

Actually, it might be a little confusing. Like, why am I suddenly writing all these posts about the universe, spirituality and things that sound like they belong in a philosophy lecture? 😭

Honestly, I want you guys to succeed.

Not just in the good grades, good career, make money, have a nice life kind of way. I want you to understand yourself, find meaning, do good things, and have something to hold onto when life gets difficult. And if you believe there is something beyond this life, I want you to think about that too.

I’m not going to write this as a religious lecture, so don’t worry.

This isn’t about whether you believe in God or not.

It’s about a question humans have been asking for thousands of years.

What, if anything, is beyond us?

And before we get there, think about something that happens all the time.

Someone is having one of the worst days of their life.

They’ve tried fixing the situation.

They’ve tried being patient.

Nothing seems to work.

Eventually, they’re sitting alone at night, with absolutely no idea what to do next.

So they pray.

Not some beautiful, carefully prepared prayer.

Just:

“Please. I don’t know what else to do.”

Maybe nothing immediately happens.

Maybe something changes the next morning.

Maybe someone unexpectedly calls. Maybe an opportunity appears. Maybe circumstances simply shift.

And that person says:

“God helped me.”

Someone else might say:

“It was coincidence.”

A psychologist might look at their thoughts and behavior.

A neuroscientist could study what happens in their brain while they pray.

A statistician might ask how likely the event was to happen anyway.

And the believer might still say:

“I know what I experienced.”

So who’s right? And more importantly...

how would we even know?

That’s where this gets interesting.

Before We Ask Who God Is, What Do We Mean by “God”?

We throw the word God around as if it has one universal meaning.

But it doesn’t.

Is God a person?

A creator?

The first cause of the universe?

A necessary being?

The ground of existence?

Ultimate reality?

Something beyond space and time?

Something that cannot even properly be described using human language?

Philosophers have argued about these questions for centuries.

There are cosmological arguments asking why anything exists at all. Teleological arguments consider order and apparent purpose. Ontological arguments try to reason from the concept of God itself. There are arguments from morality, consciousness and religious experience.

And then there are arguments against God’s existence.

The problem of evil.

The hiddenness of God.

The apparent success of natural explanations.

The diversity of religions.

None of these debates has produced one universally accepted answer.

Which is probably why philosophy of religion is still very much alive.

Sometimes we talk about God as though humanity solved the question a long time ago.

We didn’t.

We’re still asking.

Before We Ask Who God Is, What Do We Mean by “God”?

We throw the word God around as if it has one universal meaning.

But it doesn’t.

Is God a person?

A creator?

The first cause of the universe?

A necessary being?

The ground of existence?

Ultimate reality?

Something beyond space and time?

Something that cannot even properly be described using human language?

Philosophers have argued about these questions for centuries.

There are cosmological arguments asking why anything exists at all. Teleological arguments consider order and apparent purpose. Ontological arguments try to reason from the concept of God itself. There are arguments from morality, consciousness and religious experience.

And then there are arguments against God’s existence.

The problem of evil.

The hiddenness of God.

The apparent success of natural explanations.

The diversity of religions.

None of these debates has produced one universally accepted answer.

Which is probably why philosophy of religion is still very much alive.

Sometimes we talk about God as though humanity solved the question a long time ago.

We didn’t.

We’re still asking.

Religion Isn’t as Simple as We Think

What exactly counts as a religion?

If religion means belief in a creator God, Buddhism immediately complicates that definition.

If it means belief in gods, we encounter traditions where gods aren’t the central philosophical concern.

If it means a sacred book and organized worship, we’re again forcing thousands of different traditions into one tiny box.

Hinduism, Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Jainism, Sikhism, and the religious worlds of ancient Greece and Rome have radically different ideas about reality, morality, ritual, death, the self and the divine.

They don’t all agree.

And that’s important.

I don’t like the lazy statement that “all religions are basically saying the same thing.”

They aren’t.

But perhaps they are all responding to something deeply human.

The feeling that existence is bigger than our ordinary experience of it.

Different Gods. Different Worlds. Same Human Curiosity?

Ancient Greeks imagined gods who were jealous, loving, angry, proud and protective.

Judaism, Christianity and Islam developed powerful traditions of monotheism, with one God as creator and sovereign of reality.

Hindu traditions developed enormously diverse understandings of Brahman, gods, the self and liberation.

Daoist philosophy speaks about the Dao, which cannot simply be reduced to a Western-style personal creator God.

Confucian thought focuses heavily on virtue, relationships, ritual and cultivating a good human life.

Jainism places extraordinary emphasis on nonviolence, discipline and liberation.

Buddhist philosophy does not require a creator God as the explanation of existence. Instead, it places liberation from suffering at the centre of its path.

These traditions aren’t interchangeable.

But look at the questions appearing again and again.

Why are we here?

Why do we suffer?

What makes a human being good?

What happens when we die?

Is consciousness more than the body?

Is there something beyond the physical world?

Can we know it?

Maybe that’s the real connection.

Not that all religions have the same answer.

But that humans keep asking.

What Buddhism Adds to the Question

This is one reason I find Buddhism philosophically fascinating.

Buddhist thought doesn’t require spirituality to end with finding a powerful being who can give us everything we want.

There are devas and other forms of existence within Buddhist cosmology, and Buddhist practice can include offerings, merit dedication, blessings, devotional practices and seeking protection.

But devas aren’t the ultimate goal.

They remain within samsara.

Even heavenly existence is conditioned and impermanent.

The ultimate goal is Nibbana, liberation.

And suddenly the question changes.

Instead of:

“Who can give me everything I want?”

we can ask:

“Why do I want everything I want?”

Why do I cling?

Why am I afraid of losing?

Why does pleasure disappear and leave me wanting more?

What exactly is this “self” I’m so obsessed with protecting?

The ideas of anicca, dukkha and anatta, impermanence, suffering or unsatisfactoriness and non-self, take us somewhere very different.

We suffer partly because we cling to things that cannot remain permanent.

And the path asks us to gradually understand and let go.

The goal isn’t easy.

Honestly, it’s freaking hard.

But that’s what makes the philosophy so interesting.

It isn’t simply promising:

“Ask, and you’ll receive.”

It’s asking:

“What if freedom comes from needing less to receive?”

But Then, What About God and Suffering?

Okay, let’s make things uncomfortable.

If God is all-powerful, all-knowing and perfectly good...

why does suffering exist?

Real suffering.

Children dying.

Animals suffering.

War.

Natural disasters.

Disease.

People losing everything.

This is the famous problem of evil, one of the central problems in philosophy of religion.

There are many philosophical responses to it, including free-will defenses, soul-making approaches, theodicies and arguments about the limits of human understanding.

But none has ended the debate.

And I don’t think we should rush to make suffering comfortable with some inspirational quote.

Sometimes “everything happens for a reason” is comforting.

Sometimes it’s the last thing a suffering person needs to hear.

Buddhism approaches the question differently.

Instead of asking only:

“Why would God allow suffering?”

it asks:

“What is suffering? What causes it? Can it cease?”

One approach tries to explain suffering within a universe governed by God.

The other investigates suffering itself.

And maybe both are worth thinking about.

Can Science Find God?

Okay.

This is where people usually start throwing things at each other. 😭

Science can study meditation.

It can study prayer.

It can study brain activity.

It can measure physiological changes.

But can a scientist measure God?

Can you put Allah into an MRI?

Can you measure Brahman?

Can you detect the Dao with a particle detector?

Can you put Nibbana on a graph?

Not in the ordinary scientific sense.

But that doesn’t automatically mean those things don’t exist.

It means science has particular methods, and those methods work with particular kinds of evidence.

This is why some philosophers describe science as methodologically atheistic. Scientific theories don’t invoke God or supernatural beings as mechanisms.

Others prefer methodologically agnostic. Science simply doesn’t take a position on whether God exists.

And that distinction matters.

Because:

“Science doesn’t use God to explain this phenomenon”

doesn’t equal:

“Science has proved God doesn’t exist.”

Those are completely different claims.

Science can tell us what happens in the brain during prayer.

That doesn’t necessarily tell us whether there is someone listening.

And the reverse is also true.

Someone having an intense spiritual experience doesn’t scientifically prove that their interpretation of it is correct.

We have to be careful in both directions.

What If Different Religions Are Different Windows?

There’s a philosophical position called religious pluralism, particularly associated with thinkers such as John Hick, which explores whether different religions might be responding to some deeper ultimate reality through different human concepts and cultural frameworks.

That doesn’t simply mean:

“All religions are the same.”

They clearly aren’t.

Maybe different traditions encounter something ultimate but describe it differently.

Maybe they’re genuinely encountering different things.

Maybe one tradition is closer to the truth.

Maybe none has the whole picture.

Maybe the question itself is wrong.

We don’t know.

And I think “we don’t know” is one of the most intellectually honest sentences a human being can say.

What About the Soul?

Now ask yourself something weird.

What exactly are you?

Your body changes.

Your thoughts change.

Your personality changes.

Yet you experience yourself as you.

So what is the self?

A soul?

A brain?

A stream of consciousness?

A collection of memories?

Something else?

Different traditions answer this radically differently.

Many religious traditions understand some form of soul or enduring spiritual identity.

Buddhist philosophy famously challenges the idea of a permanent, unchanging self through anatta, or non-self.

And that creates another fascinating question.

If there isn’t a permanent self...

what exactly continues through rebirth?

What carries karma?

What becomes liberated?

We don’t have to solve that today.

Honestly, I’m not solving thousands of years of philosophy in one Substack post. 😭

And Then There’s Manifestation

I’ve written about the universe and manifestation before, so I want to be careful here too.

There is a difference between:

“Visualization, gratitude and positive expectations can influence my behavior.”

and:

“Thinking about something hard enough scientifically forces the universe to give it to me.”

The first can be studied psychologically.

The second is a much larger metaphysical claim.

Maybe manifestation sometimes works because it changes the person doing it.

You write down what you want.

You become clearer.

You notice opportunities.

You become more confident.

You take actions you wouldn’t have taken before.

You keep going longer.

And eventually, something happens.

Was it the universe?

Psychology?

Coincidence?

Divine intervention?

I don’t know.

And I think it’s okay not to pretend that we know.

So Does Believing in God Make Us Good?

This might be the most important question here.

Humans have somehow managed to turn religion into a reason to hate each other.

“My God is right.”

“Your religion is wrong.”

“My people are better.”

“Those people are evil.”

And suddenly, something that was supposed to make us more compassionate becomes another excuse to hurt people.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth.

A deeply religious person can still be cruel.

An atheist can be compassionate.

Someone can know every religious text and still treat people terribly.

Someone else can know almost nothing about theology and spend their entire life helping others.

So maybe belief isn’t the final measure of goodness.

Maybe the better question is:

What does your belief make you do?

Does it make you kinder?

More forgiving?

More compassionate?

More willing to help?

More respectful of people who believe differently?

Because if our beliefs make us cruel to one another, perhaps we’ve missed something important.

So... What About God?

After all these questions, I don’t think we need to pretend we have a perfect answer.

I believe in God.

I believe there are things beyond what I can see and measure.

But believing doesn’t mean I have personally solved the mystery of existence.

Maybe God is exactly what different religions describe.

Maybe our human languages can only describe pieces of something much bigger.

Maybe we have misunderstood some things completely.

Maybe there are things about God that a human mind simply isn’t capable of understanding.

And maybe that’s okay.

Because perhaps God doesn’t expect us to understand everything about Him.

Maybe He just wants us to do good while we’re here.

Help someone when you can.

Forgive.

Love without constantly asking what you’ll get back.

Protect people and creatures that are vulnerable.

Be kind when nobody is watching.

Whether you call God… God, Allah, Brahman, the divine, or something else, becoming cruel in the name of our beliefs was never the point.

I don’t know everything about God.

But I know I want whatever I believe in to make me a better human being, not a better person than someone else.

And maybe that’s enough for now.

Believe. Question. Search. But above everything, do good. ♡

A person appeared at the right time.
You got an unexpected opportunity.
You found the exact words you needed.
A random little coincidence suddenly made everything make sense.

I used to think these things were just coincidences.

But the more I started paying attention, the more I realized how much I love talking to the universe and how much comfort, guidance, and unexpected help I feel I receive from it.

And honestly? You don’t always have to do something complicated to feel connected to the universe.

Sometimes you just have to talk.

So here are some things I’ve personally been doing that have helped me feel more connected, supported, and loved by the universe. Take whatever resonates with you. 🤍

1. Talking With Yourself

Every time you talk to yourself, you are talking to the universe. Remember that.

So be mindful of your words.

We are all a part of this universe. It has made us a place to live, It made us and we are connected to it in so many ways. So when we talk with ourselves, in a way, we are also communicating with the universe.

That’s why people in motivational videos always tell you to use affirmations and speak positively to yourself.

“I can do this.”
“Everything will work out.”
“I am worthy of good things.”
“I am becoming the person I want to be.”

Talk positively.

When you constantly fill your mind with positive words, you start noticing more positive things around you too. And personally, I believe the universe hears those little conversations we have with ourselves and sends more positive things our way.

So please, don’t be cruel to yourself. You never know who’s listening. ✨

2. Meditation

Meditation is magical, guys. Truly.

We meditate for different reasons, but try this one: usually, meditation has been practiced by ancient monks to find peace, let go of attachment to physical things, and become more detached from the chaos around us.

I can remember our teacher once telling us that she talked with a monk and that it helped cure her stress too. That monk is meditation-based. She told us that he could understand the universe and that he was very protected. There was a kidney stone patient, and that monk wanted to donate his kidney to her. The doctor didn’t check much and transferred the kidney, but that kidney had cancer bacteria, and the patient died. Yet the monk survived without getting cancer.

Look how the universe can protect you. No one can change what the universe gives you.

And I believe the universe can give you knowledge about so many things when you meditate for a long time.

It’s fine if it’s only five minutes or more. I mean, I’m lazy too, but five minutes isn’t that long, right? 😭

Also, you might sometimes feel a little quiet wind blowing or something similar when you talk to the universe or show gratitude after meditation or even during it.

For me, those little moments feel like reminders that the universe is always watching over us.

3. Talk With the Universe

Well, the best time to talk with the universe, for me, is late at night, during sunset, or early in the morning around 4 a.m.–6 a.m.

Literally, just talk about anything.

Your goals.
Your problems.
Your updates.
Your dreams.
Your nonsense.

Talk like the universe is your bestie.

Remember, the universe has infinite love.

You just have to talk to the universe heart-to-heart and say:

“I love the universe unlimitedly, and I know you love me back unlimitedly too.”

Always trust that.

You can feel so free after talking.

And soon after, you might start noticing more and more angel numbers, dreams, little coincidences, or moments where you feel strangely protected.

You can also ask for signs.

And when signs are shown to you, remember to be conscious about them but don’t desperately search for signs.

Let them come to you.

They can happen in the most dramatic situations.

Trust me.

4. Journaling

Don’t you find yourself getting into journaling when things get hard?

And when you’re journaling, don’t you sometimes wonder where the words even come from?

You start by writing about your problems like:

“Oh dear diary, WTF?” 😭

But then you keep writing.

And somehow, somewhere in those pages, you start writing more positive things.

You write about how you healed from that situation.

You write about how you’re going to get through it.

You write about the future.

Darling, maybe you’re connecting with the universe through journaling.

Remember to always show gratitude to the universe.

You can also say:

“I would be even more grateful if…”

when you want something.

Gratitude matters the most in journaling.

Today, I went through my journals. I’ve been writing them since I was 14 years old, and I found pages where I had written things like:

“I want to publish a book.”

“I am a published author.”

“I am a writer.”

YAYYY.

And below that:

“Thank you, universe, for making me a published author.”

Guess what?

I’m gonna be a published author within a week. <3

It’s just pure magic. PURE MAGIC!!!

5. The Law of Attraction

I’ll write a whole post totally about the Law of Attraction soon.

For this, you can use the scripting method, the 5×55 method, the 777 method, and you can Google some other methods too.

This can be really helpful for your exams, especially.

You guys can try any Law of Attraction method that feels right for you.

So… Why Did I Write This?

I really wanted to write this post because today I went through my journals.

I was so fucked up.

I was overwhelmed, emotional, and just looking through those old pages.

But after that, I realized something.

To become the person I am today, the universe helped me a lot.

Like… literally a lot.

Looking back at all those things I wrote, all those wishes, all those little moments, all those times I asked for something and somehow found a way forward…

It made me realize how much I believe in this connection.

You can always see signs if you are connected with the universe.

Sometimes they’re huge.

Sometimes they’re tiny.

Sometimes they’re so ridiculous that you just sit there like:

“Okay… universe. I SEE YOU.” 😭

And maybe that’s the beautiful part.

The universe is wide enough to give all of us love, and our hearts are wide enough to love it back. <3

So talk to it.

Be grateful.

Ask for help.

Believe.

And most importantly, don’t forget to notice the little things.

I hope you guys got something from this.

And I’m sending you lots and lots of love. 🤍

Remember: always be grateful.

<3

That’s it.

Nothing extraordinary happened. I just saw a book, and somehow, one ordinary moment made me think about something I don’t think about often enough.

Life.

Not the big, dramatic version of life we write about. Just this.

The fact that I am here. The fact that you are here.

Isn’t that strange?

There are millions of forms of life around us.

Trees reaching toward sunlight.

Birds crossing the sky.

Fish moving through oceans we have barely explored.

Tiny insects living entire lives beneath our feet.

Animals being born, growing, searching, loving, surviving.

And somehow, among all of this life, you became you.

You were not always here.

There was a time when your name didn’t exist.

Your face didn’t exist.

Your memories didn’t exist.

And then, somehow, you arrived.

Imagine a gigantic ocean.

Somewhere in that ocean is one turtle. Now imagine throwing a tiny ring into that enormous ocean and asking it to somehow land perfectly around that turtle’s neck.

It sounds almost impossible.

Life is full of moments like that.

We don’t need to attach a magical percentage to it to understand how astonishing our existence is.

Out of everything that could have happened, you are here.

Reading these words. Breathing. Thinking. Feeling. Existing.

And perhaps we’ve become so accustomed to it that we’ve forgotten how strange it is.

Sometimes the most extraordinary thing about life is how ordinary it feels.

We wake up assuming there will be another morning.

We say:

I’ll do it tomorrow.

I’ll tell them tomorrow.

I’ll start tomorrow.

I’ll travel someday.

I’ll become who I want to be later.

We treat tomorrow as if it belongs to us.

But it doesn’t.

Tomorrow is only something we hope to meet.

Recently, someone I knew died. He was seventeen.

Seventeen.

He was talented, beautiful, and had so much ahead of him.

It was a bike accident.

People had warned him about riding at high speed. At one point, he had even said something about dying on the bike. At the time, it was simply something he said.

Afterward, those words felt completely different.

Because suddenly there was no later for him.

No next birthday.

No ordinary Tuesday that would eventually become a memory.

Just a life that had stopped much earlier than anyone expected.

And that’s the part about death that frightens me most.

We don’t know.

We don’t know which day will become our last.

We don’t know which conversation will unknowingly be our final conversation.

We don’t know which morning we won’t wake up to.

And I’m not saying this so you become afraid of living.

I’m saying it because perhaps we should become more awake to living.

We are so busy counting the days ahead that we forget to notice the one underneath our feet.

Stop reading for a moment.

Put the phone down. Just for a minute.

Go through your camera roll. Find an old photograph of yourself.

Maybe you’re five. Maybe you’re the awkward little child you haven’t thought about in years.

Look at that face.

Really look.

That little person didn’t know everything that was coming.

They didn’t know the people they would meet.

They didn’t know the things they would lose.

They didn’t know the things they would achieve.

They didn’t know how many times they would laugh until their stomach hurt.

They didn’t know how many nights they would cry.

They didn’t know how much they would grow.

And look at you now.

Look at how far that little person came.

Maybe you don’t think you’ve achieved enough.

Maybe you look at other people and feel behind.

Maybe you’ve had days when you thought,

I can’t do this anymore.

Maybe you’ve had days when you felt like you were wasting your life.

But look at that photograph again.

You made it here.

You survived things that younger you didn’t even know were coming.

You learned things.You grew.

You became someone your younger self could never have imagined.

If you want, make a little video from your old photographs.

Put them together. Watch them and let yourself feel it.

Not because your life has been perfect. But because you have lived.

You have already lived so much.

And there is still so much you haven’t lived yet.

There are versions of you in old photographs who would be amazed to know you made it this far.

And maybe this is something else we misunderstand about life.

You don’t have to live for a hundred years for your life to matter.

You don’t have to collect eighty, ninety, or a hundred years just to prove that you lived well.

A long life is beautiful.

But a long life and a meaningful life are not the same thing.

Maybe what matters is not simply how many years we receive.

Maybe it’s how often we were actually there for them.

Because you can spend your whole life living in yesterday.

Thinking about what you should have done.

What you should have said.

Who you used to be.

Or you can spend your whole life waiting for tomorrow.

And while you’re staring at yesterday or waiting for tomorrow...

today quietly passes.

The future is a beautiful place to visit, but you cannot live there.

So perhaps we should come back to this moment not because every moment is wonderful. Being present doesn’t mean pretending everything is beautiful.

It means allowing yourself to actually be where you are.

If you’re happy, feel it.

If you’re sad, feel it.

If you’re laughing, laugh without worrying about when it will end.

Look at the sky. Listen when someone speaks to you.

Notice the sunlight on your wall.

Let a song exist without immediately skipping it.

Hold someone’s hand.

Laugh at something stupid.

Cry when you need to.

Let ordinary moments be ordinary.

Because one day, an ordinary moment will be something you wish you could have back.

Maybe that’s where life begins to have meaning.

When we finally notice that we are here.

Right now.

This exact version of you will never exist again.

This particular day will never return.

This conversation will never happen in exactly the same way.

This sky will never look exactly the same.

You will never be exactly this age again.

And somehow...

you’re here to experience it.

Some people would give anything for another ordinary morning.

And we have been given another morning without even asking for it.

Maybe that deserves gratitude.

Not forced gratitude.

Not the kind where you’re told to smile because someone else has it worse.

Just a quiet,

I’m glad I’m here.

I don’t know what life is.

Maybe nobody completely does.

Maybe life is love.

Maybe it’s growth.

Maybe it’s suffering and joy existing beside each other.

Maybe it’s the people we leave behind.

Maybe it’s the little moments we almost forget.

Maybe it’s all of them.

But I know this:

We spend so much of our lives trying to find the meaning of being alive that sometimes we forget the simplest part.

We are alive.

And that is already something.

So tonight, before you sleep, look around your room.

Look at your hands.

Look at the people you love.

Look at the old photographs.

Look at the life you have already lived.

And then look at tomorrow.

Not because you are guaranteed to have it.

But because you are lucky enough to hope for it.

Take a breath.

Be here.

Really be here.

You don’t have to live forever.

You don’t even have to know exactly where your life is going.

You just have to live the life that is happening now.

Because someday, this moment will be part of your past too.

And when that day comes, I hope you can look back and say:

I was there.

I didn’t spend my whole life waiting to live.

I lived.

You are alive.

Isn’t that strange?

Sometimes it feels

as if I never truly mattered.

Do you hate me?

Then why did you once

call me your princess?

You say I'm the blessing of this family...

Was it all just an act?

If I weren't outgoing,

if I didn't bring home good grades,

if my reputation wasn't spotless,

if I couldn't speak so well,

if my voice didn't win hearts,

would you still love me,

without expecting me

to earn it first?

Is this what love is?

A love that demands proof

every single day.

She has nothing to prove,

yet you love her more.

Is it because her pain

has a louder voice?

Because her tears

are seen while mine

have always fallen

in silence?

Not only she cries.

Every single night,

I cry too.

The only difference is...

you never hear me.

You never see me.

And even if you knew,

I wonder…

would you come

and hold me too?

I carry every expectation,

yet somehow,

I'm never enough

You tell me to treat her kindly

because I'm "the princess."

But a princess isn't supposed to feel

like a servant.

You ask.

I obey.

Still,

I stand on trial

for simply existing.

You blame me

for things I never meant to do.

Your smiles rarely reach me.

Your face wears irritation

whenever you look my way.

Am I really that unbearable?

Do you hate me that much?

I'm still just a little girl.

Little girls make mistakes.

Little girls misunderstand,

and are misunderstood.

I've spent a lifetime

being the latter.

Even the smallest things

become reasons to blame me.

It's too heavy

for shoulders this small.

Sometimes,

I just want to run

so far away

that your disappointment

can no longer find me.

But the cruelest part is..

I still love you.

So tonight,

I ask only one thing.

God...

Please let me find peace,

just once.

“Home is where the heart is.”

Mine spent years
Trying to escape it.

A reality
I was expected to cherish.

A future
I secretly raised like a fragile bird
inside my chest.

The loudest thing
in my childhood

wasn’t thunder.

It was love spoken
without gentleness.

I learned
that footsteps
could carry warnings.

That silence
could hold its breath.

That a closed door
didn’t always mean
privacy…

sometimes,
it meant
another storm
had found a room.

Outside,

we looked
like pressed flowers
between the pages
of a beautiful life.

Inside,

we were petals
learning
how to survive
the weight
of our own vase.

Look closer.

Beauty has never been
proof of peace.

No one tells you, that children
become weather forecasters.

Reading voices. Measuring sighs.

Predicting
which version
of someone
will walk through the door.

I don’t remember
every argument.

I remember
how my heartbeat
started rehearsing
for them.

People think
peace is the absence of noise.

It isn’t.

Peace is knowing your name
won’t be called
like a weapon.

The sky
never demanded
that I explain
my tears.

The moon
never interrupted
my silence.

The stars
never competed
to be the brightest.

Funny...

The universe
treated me
more gently
than some people
ever did.

That’s why
I keep looking up.

The sky never mistook volume for love.

I don’t crave a bigger house.

I crave a quieter one.

A home where apologies aren’t rarer than sunsets.

Where kindness isn’t confused with surrender.

Where children don’t mistake
survival for growing up.

Maybe, that’s why
I write.

Because paper
never raised
its voice at me.

Because ink never asked me to become smaller
so someone else could feel bigger.

One day,

I’ll build a home where laughter
doesn’t have to check if it’s safe.

Where silence isn’t a ceasefire.

Where love doesn’t sound like winning.

Only then

Will I understand

what everyone
was talking about

when they said,

“Home.”

Each hour painted a different story.
Soft blues, golden light,
blushing pinks, and quiet darkness.

The universe never spoke,
yet somehow it whispered,
“Be present.”

The sky healed me
without asking for anything.
It simply existed,
and somehow,
that was enough.

Sometimes I think
I am like the sky.

The world sees different colors,
different personalities,
different phases of me.

But beyond everything they see
lives a universe
filled with mysteries, dreams,
and a darkness
that only I understand.

Then I looked at the moon.

People dream of becoming stars.
There are millions of them,
beautiful and bright.

Yet few wish
to become the moon.

The moon carries the night.
It comforts the lonely,
guides the lost,
and brightens days
that once felt empty.

Looking at the sky,
I realized something.

Perfection is a story
that often ends in sadness.

The moon is not perfect.
Its face is marked with scars,
its light changes,
and sometimes
only a small part of it can be seen.

Yet every night,
the world still looks up
and calls it beautiful.

Perhaps beauty
was never about perfection.
Perhaps it is about
choosing to shine
despite every scar.

So if you are the moon,
thank you.

You remind me
that even imperfect souls
can become
the brightest light
in someone’s darkest night.

And every evening,
I feel blessed,
because no matter how the sky changes,
The moon always finds its way back.

From the moment we are born, people begin placing expectations on us. Parents, relatives, teachers, society, everyone seems to already have a version of our future planned out.

If you get high marks in your first few grades, suddenly they expect you to become a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer… something “successful.”

And maybe their intentions are good. Maybe they just want the best for you.

But what happens when your interests change?

What happens when you lose passion for those subjects?
What happens when the marks start dropping?

Suddenly the questions begin.

“Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”
“Are extracurricular activities distracting you?”
“Why are your grades getting lower?”

And slowly, pressure turns into anxiety.

If you fail mathematics, many people immediately assume you are “dumb.” Even after attending extra classes, trying harder, exhausting yourself mentally if you still fail, they look at you with disappointment instead of understanding.

What hurts the most is that they fail to see the light within you.

Not every student is built the same.
Not every mind shines in the same direction.

Some students are artists trapped inside science classrooms.
Some are entrepreneurs forced to memorize formulas they will never use.
Some are writers silently dying inside lessons that make them feel nothing.

Yet if they fail those subjects, society labels them as failures.

Why do we go to school?
Why do we study only for marks?
Why is intelligence measured by grades instead of passion, creativity, kindness, leadership, or imagination?

Maybe this is not everyone’s story.
But I know there are people who feel this way
because I am one of them.

A bird forced to swim will spend its whole life believing it cannot fly.

Many students have different potentials. They do not want to spend their entire lives trapped inside classrooms learning subjects that feel empty to them. But if they stop following that path, everyone blames them.

And the hardest part is this:
you do not want to disappoint people.

Especially when they expect so much from you.

I do not like it when everyone expects greatness from me all the time.
Because expectations are heavy.
Sometimes they are so heavy that they stop feeling like love.

Expectations are often just invisible weights placed on the hearts of others.

Take a moment and imagine this:

What if nobody expected anything from you?

No pressure.
No comparisons.
No fear of disappointing anyone.

What would you truly want to do?

What dreams would finally breathe inside you?

Maybe you would start a business.
Maybe you would publish books.
Maybe you would travel the world.
Maybe you would become closer to God.
Maybe you would simply rest.

I think about this a lot.

Because if school pressure disappeared, I already know there are hundreds of things I would love to do with my life.

Write your dreams down.
Feel them.
Listen carefully to yourself.

Then you will finally realize whether you are living for your own happiness or for the expectations of others.

Because this life is yours.

Not theirs.

You choose your future.
You choose your career.
You choose who you become.

This story is about YOU.

YOU are the main character.

And while learning this, I also realized something else:

We should stop expecting too much from other people too.

Sometimes we expect others to apologize.
To understand us.
To believe in us.
To care the same way we care for them.

But many people simply will not.

Even close friends disappoint us sometimes.

Last week, my friends had a childish argument over something as small as a seat. One girl in our friend group took my seat and refused to move, saying, “This is mine now.” It felt so immature that my best friend and I simply walked away instead of creating drama.

They still have not apologized.

But honestly?
Maybe they never will.

That is their mindset.
Their attitude.
And we cannot force people to change.

Sometimes our own expectations become the reason we get hurt.

“Not everyone has the same heart as you.”

I think many writers understand this deeply.

Writers are often soft-hearted people.
Sensitive.
Kind.
Selfless.

Maybe that is why we write
because we feel too much.

And because we feel deeply, we often expect others to love with the same intensity we give them.

But the truth is:
not everyone will treat you the way you treat them.

You expect a lot from people because you would do a lot for them.

And that realization hurts.

In the end, after all the expectations, disappointments, pressure, and noise…

you only truly have yourself.

Society hurts people and then acts as if the hurt person is the problem.

But maybe the world changes when people start understanding each other instead of controlling each other.

And maybe writers can help do that.

I truly believe writers can change the world.

Words heal people.
Words awaken people.
Words make people feel seen.

So I hope one day writers everywhere, especially small writers with kind hearts, continue spreading honesty and kindness through their words.

Because sometimes a single paragraph can save a person silently struggling inside themselves.

Do not let the expectations of others become the prison of your soul.

Have a good day writers <3

But the Lord gave me
a heart that feels too deeply,
so I chose to turn sorrow
into poetry.

Maybe beautiful.
Maybe bitter.
Maybe truth.
Maybe only
the raw shape of me.

I hear the little birds singing,
and in their trembling notes
I almost remember
the softness of your voice.

I never knew
you carried storms on your shoulders
and still smiled like spring flowers,
still stood like an unshaken stone.

Yet beneath it all,
you were only a butterfly,
wings made of tenderness,
so fragile that even love
could bruise you.

I’m sorry.
That pain was too heavy
for someone so young.
I could feel it
like rain beneath my skin.

But I cannot lift
your grief onto my shoulders again.
Maybe once I did.
Maybe too many times.

Now I have learned
the lonely lesson
of being selfless.

One day,
you will realize
most of your suffering
was born from fearing release,
from clutching broken things
until they bled into your hands.

Why do you still pretend
to be whole
while your heart breaks quietly
behind the curtain of your smile?

Though perhaps
that is another art
poets fall in love with,
the beauty of silent ruin.

And one day
you will understand:
God did not give you pain
to destroy you,

but to open your ribs,
plant light inside them,
and teach you
how healing blooms.

Not because it shines the brightest,
not because it is the biggest,
But because I see
the loneliness it carries
through the dark seasons.

When I think of you,
I think of the moon.
I imagine you there,
quiet, distant,
aching in silence
just like me.

If I am the sun,
Then, you are the moon.

Two souls burning in our own ways,
hiding the pain,
showing only light.

So similar,
so close,
yet never meant to meet.

The sun chases,
the moon drifts
but they never touch.

Maybe this love is one-sided.
Maybe it lives only in me.

But still…
I get to see you every day.
And somehow,
That softens my heart.

Even when your eyes
belong to someone else,
I still love you.

And thank you
for letting me feel this love at all.

Maybe I’m foolish.
Maybe I’m just in love.
Maybe it’s nothing

but to me,
it is everything.

I would die for you
would you notice?
I would cry for you
would you notice?

I would break for you…
would you notice?

What must I do
to earn your love?

I give all I can
yet I am still unseen.

Fifteen years…
my eyes have only known you.

Among all the stars,
you are the only one
I could never turn away from.

Maybe one-sided love
is enough for me.

Because I already know
we were never meant to be.

And still…
I will love you anyway. 🤍

We could have been more.

The world keeps spinning,
relentless, loud,
crashing through everything we once held still.

I heard some girls
whispering about a boy,
while somewhere else
the world is quietly falling apart.

Young children
watch the sky burn with bombs,
while nature still tries
to bloom its fragile beauty.

And I stand here
thinking about the unstable life ahead.

I wish we weren’t late.
I wish we could have been more.
I wish you were still beside me,
before time ran out
to make memories.

I cannot forgive myself,
and you cannot forget me.

Maybe we could have been perfect.
But perfection
has never existed in this world.

Forgive my silence.

I was always afraid
to begin with a hello
that would one day end
with a goodbye.

So in the end
I walked away again,
carrying the weight
of feeling like the villain
in my own story.

Now I keep finding you
hidden inside the old songs
I once loved.

Maybe it’s time
to close that chapter of my story
with poetry,

poetry that holds me tightly
when nothing else does.

I know there must be meaning
behind all of this,
but the universe
never explained why.

Maybe I am cursed,
unable to release
the ocean of emotions
restless inside my heart.

Oh, I wish you could read this.
I wish you would return
to the place you once had
inside my heart.

But now I understand
promises
are the sweetest lies.

And forever
is often just another word
for something that never stays.

A small note from my heart:

Live where your heart feels alive.
Live for yourself.
But never forget kindness.

Even when the world feels like it is crashing,
I hope people never lose the softness in their hearts.

I hope everyone, somewhere out there,
is okay. ♡

I didn’t want to lose you.
But my heart and my mind
were speaking different languages.
And I stood between them,
silent.

It wasn’t pride.
It was fear.

I’ve said “sorry” more times than I can count,
but the truth is,
I was never afraid of love.
I was afraid of being soft.
I thought becoming cold would make me stronger,
safer.
I didn’t know it would only make me lonely.

I grew up watching love fall apart in quiet rooms,
watching people carry heartbreak
like it was part of their shadow.
So I made a promise to myself,
never be broken.

But no one tells you
you can still be shattered
without anything actually ending.

I smiled with you
when I should have told you the truth.
I played strong,
independent,
untouched,
like someone who didn’t need saving.

But the truth is
I was still trying to figure out
who I even was.

And somehow,
you saw me
before I saw myself.

Maybe we didn’t lose forever.
Maybe we just found it
at the wrong time.

And maybe one day,
time will feel guilty
and lead us back to the same place.

But when I finally understand myself,
you won’t be there.

You’ll be somewhere far away,
in a new country,
under a different sky,
living the life you were always meant to chase.

And I will still be here,
learning how to miss someone
who once felt like home.

You were the sunrise.
And I woke up too late.
I was the moon.
And you fell asleep too early.

My mind knows
some people only exist in one chapter.
But my foolish heart
still rereads the same page,
hoping the ending changes.

If I ever crossed an ocean for you,
would you still be waiting on the shore?

They say many people can admire a beautiful soul,
but only a few can make you believe you have one.
You were one of the rare ones.

You loved me
when I was made of shadows.
And maybe that’s why it scares me,
because now I know
how it feels to be loved in the dark.

Maybe I don’t miss you.
Maybe I just miss
the version of me
that existed beside you.

I always loved you as a friend.
And maybe I was too afraid
to let that love grow into something deeper.

I don’t know
if it would change
even if we met again.

Maybe that’s the cruelest part,
not losing you,
but not knowing
what we could have been.

Am I selfish for holding on to ghosts?
You always called me selfless.
But here I am,
still wishing time had paused
just once.

All I really want to say is this:

Thank you
for being real in a world that pretends.
Thank you
for loving me
when I didn’t know how to love myself.

And I’m sorry.

Sorry for not stopping you.
Sorry for understanding too late.
Sorry that some people
only realize the value of warmth
after winter begins.

A gentle reminder:
Be with the people you love while you can.
You can be independent and still be full of love.

Be kind. Be real. Be you.
And if someone loves you for who you truly are,
don’t let go too easily.

Don’t ignore the moment.
Not everything needs overthinking.

Because sometimes…
what if it goes right?

I’m not here to lecture. This is me sharing my thoughts, my logic, my wild theories and yes, some of this is kind of “just my brain thinking out loud.” So buckle up.

Who Was Epstein?

A Creepy Old Psychopath?

Yeah… probably. But let’s be real he was smart, charming, and knew exactly how to play people. Classic psychopath vibes.

Childhood and “The Mask”

Jeffrey Epstein was born in 1953 in Brooklyn, math prodigy, skipped grades, classical pianist basically a kid genius. Then he somehow got hired to teach physics at the elite Dalton School in Manhattan… with no college degree. Wild, right?

That’s where he started rubbing shoulders with billionaire parents. He got fired for “poor performance,” but used those connections to land a job at Bear Stearns and became a limited partner. Already you can see the pattern: charm + intelligence + networking = power.

How He Got Rich (Spoiler: Not From Stocks)

Epstein’s wealth wasn’t because he was a market genius it was relationships.

• Les Wexner: Gave Epstein control over billions, plus mansions and planes.

• Leon Black: Paid $158 million for “advice” (legit work? investigators doubted it).

He also set up shop in the Virgin Islands to pay a tiny 4% tax rate saved roughly $300 million. Donated to Harvard and MIT to look like a genius philanthropist… meanwhile he was basically middleman-ing for the ultra-rich.

The Crimes (The Pyramid Scheme of Horror)

This part is dark, so bear with me:

• Recruitment: He paid victims (some as young as 14) to recruit other girls.

• Massage Front: Lured victims for “professional massages” and then abused them.

• Blackmail & Surveillance: Soundproofed houses, 2,000 videos, hundreds of thousands of images basically a “guarantee-your-silence” system.

The “Sweetheart Deal”

In 2008, even though the FBI had evidence of dozens of victims, Epstein got a slap-on-the-wrist plea deal. 13 months, work release, back to his office. It wasn’t until the 2018 Miami Herald investigation that this crazy non-prosecution agreement came to light, leading to his 2019 federal arrest and eventual death.

NYC medical examiner said suicide by hanging. Forensic pathologists and a LOT of the public said… suspicious. FBI-released CCTV in 2025 had almost 3 minutes missing, and they admitted it was modified.

January 30, 2026 File Drop: My Brain Explodes

Now, THIS is where it gets insane. The DOJ released 3 million pages of files, and while Epstein never made a “prophetic” public statement about viral surprises, his private emails show a calculated plan. He was using high-profile associates as leverage.

One verified 2011 email to Ghislaine Maxwell calls powerful figures “the dog that hasn’t barked,” suggesting he strategically kept secrets hidden for future use. Combine that with 2,000 encrypted videos and 180,000 images in the FBI’s Sentinel system, and people are speculating that he basically left a trail of evidence designed to collapse his social circle someday.

It almost feels like a plan, right? He used billionaires for obvious reasons money and connections but why include people like Michael Jackson? Or Elon Musk?

• Michael Jackson: Pure soul, media turned him into a monster. DOJ files blurred faces of minors, including MJ’s own children. Testimony from Epstein accuser Johanna Sjoberg confirmed she met Jackson at Epstein’s mansion but she never saw illegal activity. MJ just wanted peace and to be understood.

• Elon Musk: Appears in emails and even a “thank you” note from Epstein for a 2013 SpaceX tour which Musk denied ever happening. Other emails show Musk declined party invites on Epstein’s island, saying he preferred a peaceful St. Barts experience. Huh??? Makes it look like a trap, like Epstein was trying to drag anyone’s name into the mess.

Even Donald Trump appears in “birthday book” documents and logs from the ’90s and early 2000s. Some emails seem real, some not, but the point is: all these names create guilt by association.

My Logic: The Multi-Layered Distraction

Okay, here’s where my brain gets really wild. Think about it:

First, the Epstein files drop millions of pages, big names, wild secrets. Everyone’s attention immediately shifts to that instead of… you know… the war, global crises, and other tense stuff happening at the same time. Boom instant distraction.

But then come the big fancy sports ceremonies, celebrity events, viral Insta reels, TikToks… and suddenly even the files themselves become a side show. People get so absorbed in the glitz and chaos of sports and social media that they barely pay attention to what the files actually mean. Detectives, journalists, and the public all bouncing their focus from files to games, from games to social feeds.

So the war stuff? Mostly forgotten. The files? Half-analyzed or treated like gossip. Everyone’s brain is juggling a million things at once, and the real bigger picture slips by unnoticed.

It’s like layered distraction on steroids:

1. Scandal vs. War: Epstein files make everyone look away from the war.

2. Entertainment vs. Scandal: Sports, celebrities, social media take attention off the files.

3. Result: The war quietly continues, mostly out of mind, while attention bounces around like a ping-pong ball.

Multi-layered, intentional, chaotic… and honestly, it’s brilliant in a terrifying way.

Bottom Line!

Epstein: psychopath, brilliant manipulator, strategic, scary smart. Files suggest he knew exactly what he was doing, kept secrets, and built leverage. Innocent people got dragged in. Media smeared names. And the timing? Totally suspect.

TL;DR: wild crimes, insane logistics, big names, conspiracy vibes, and maybe… just maybe, a distraction designed to keep everyone looking the other way while the war quietly moves forward in the background.

I’m the youngest daughter in my family. Actually, the youngest is almost everywhere I go. Because of that, I grew up a little faster than my age. I’m still a teenager yes, really (some Substack friends find that hard to believe). I watch older people live, and I can’t help but search for purpose early.

I see the systems, the routines, the hidden problems in life and because I’m sensitive, because I feel everything too deeply, I carry them with me.

As I grew, I began to feel that the love I received from my family was tangled with expectations. Quiet questions whispered in my head:
If I don’t get high marks, will they still be loved? If I fail, will I still be accepted?

I’ve never truly disappointed them. Yet even the smallest things become reasons for lectures, reminders, and doubts. From my point of view, they don’t fully trust me. These are my words, my experience, my point of view. I wish sometimes they would read my Substack posts; they would understand me better than I could ever speak.

I’ve always been seen as the “perfect daughter.” Extroverted, playful, responsible, a leader at school, and involved in countless activities. My family says they’re proud of me, but I’ve never quite felt it land.

Some days, I hate myself for thinking that. I love them so deeply, yet I am always misunderstood. They say, “We are here to talk.” But talking only works when listening comes after, and too often, it doesn’t.

Fear shapes much of our home. I once asked if I could go watch a match, one of my dreams. The answer came: “Society is cruel. You don’t know anything.”
I don’t know. Exactly.
How am I supposed to know if no one ever teaches me?

Everyone says society is cruel. But we are a society. Why speak of it as if it’s someone else’s problem? Why not look at the world, not the system? There is so much good to show. Faith protects. You don’t have to become bad or live in fear. You can be good. You can show the good side.
Live.
Please just live, don’t just exist.

Being the youngest also meant my opinions often vanished before they could be heard. Silence was mistaken for arrogance or ignorance. When I tried to speak, I was misunderstood or told to shut up. When I stayed quiet, I was judged or joked about.

The jokes hurt the most. They made me wonder: Am I not worthy? Am I not taken seriously? I always wished I could be the same person at home and at school but those worlds never allowed it.

My sister and I have a complicated dynamic. To be honest, I feel manipulated. She feels like an empty cup scrolling endlessly, avoiding her own reality. She searches my room, goes through my laptop, digs for scraps of my life. I see it clearly. She doesn’t like her own reality, and because I am often positive, because I enjoy school, friends, and activities, she tries to pull me down.

I’m social. I meet new people every day. She’s introverted, shy, and often faking herself in public. Instead of approaching me, she watches. Sometimes I want to ask: Are you that afraid to know me for real?

My sister and mother talk openly, and in those moments, my life becomes a story told by someone else. Things I never chose to share are interpreted and repeated. I feel unseen. My mother’s perception of me is shaped through someone else’s lens, not my own.

Another reason for this tension is my change. I want to break the system and find myself. I’m doing that and because of it, I cannot be controlled like before. I’m told, “You weren’t like this as a child.”
But I’m not a child anymore.

My mom always says, “Blood is thicker than water.”
But I’ve reached a point where I don’t care about blood or water. Blood feels too sharp, too heavy. Water feels too needy, spilling over, clinging, drowning. I just…want to breathe.

When my mother and sister come together, negativity spreads toward me. They see it as bonding; I feel it as isolation. I’m told to think about my sister, that I’m arrogant or unfair. My identity feels misunderstood. Sometimes my mother shouts that my sister loves me, as if love can erase control.

But if love means controlling, crossing boundaries, searching my personal things, refusing to accept who I am now if love chains me to my past self I don’t want it.

I admit I sometimes feel jealous when my friends’ mothers treat them with trust. They go out, hang out, shop alone. Their parents trust them, and they do nothing wrong. I wish for that freedom.

Even with friends, I feel limited. Rules, warnings, pride, reputation everything comes before trust or understanding.

My boundaries at home are rarely respected. If I say no, I’m told yes. If I speak up, I’m called ungrateful. “After everything we’ve done, everything we bought you,” they say. How can we face the world if we never learn to speak for ourselves? How can we grow when fear controls our voice?

They go through my journal. If I point it out, the conversation ends. But if I touch my sister’s Pinterest accidentally, I’m blamed. I sometimes see her journal, too but I don’t read it. Respect is a choice.

This unhealthy control makes me want to leave. To move far away. To heal. Writing this lifts a heavy burden from my shoulders. I can’t speak these words without crying so writing is the only way. Even now, I cry while typing. Imagine saying it aloud.

I don’t want perfection. I just want space. Understanding. Room to breathe. I can’t be perfect and I shouldn’t have to be.

If you ever feel like this, write. Write the letters you cannot speak. And if you feel safe, share them here on Substack. It helps more than you think. Writers understand pain. Here, no one judges.

Thank you, Substack, for being a safe space.
And thank you to my family for being part of my story, even when it hurts.

Are we just stuck in a system?

So many people just want freedom. Do schools teach us about freedom? No, but how to work for the government and be in a system. Seven or six hours in school, two hours in class, let’s get seven hours of sleep. Honey, we only have 24 hours a day. We don’t have time for ourselves. We search for freedom in this system but never find it.

Usually, South Asian education, especially the Sri Lankan system, looks like 13 years of school, 4 or 5 years in college. If you want to do a PhD, again more years in college. So many years it’s going to take. It’s really important for you to know if this is what you really want before doing it. Because if you do it without listening to your own voice, you might lose the most beautiful years of your life.

I wanted to write this especially because I’m in this situation right now. Not knowing who I want to become. Questioning what is the point of studying just for the marks? We get judged by marks? When the world outside is that beautiful, honey, why do we just lock ourselves here and judge ourselves by marks? We deserve more.

I want to travel around the world, start my own business, and be an author. But from childhood, I was systemized to think: be a doctor or an engineer. Really, when I was five, I only thought those jobs existed. I’m really sorry for my childhood self for that.

I thought being a doctor was exciting. I always wondered how my mother works until I realized I’m afraid of bloody scars. But when I take that topic and try to say I want something more, it’s not that I disrespect doctors. I’m amazed by them. But the thing is, it is not for me. When I even say I don’t like biology that much, my family is like, “WHAT??!!! You don’t want to be a doctor.” But I knew at that point it wasn’t worth arguing, so I stepped back. They never understood me for me, only the version of me that has been made in their mind.

So I wanted to write this piece about education and systems.

From schools, they want to make more employees, not people who do something on their own. And because of that tradition, we are scared to try different things. Different paths. Everyone says school is a must for education, then why do we go to extra classes? School is great for making friends, extracurriculars. But some parents, teachers blame students for doing a lot of extracurricular activities and not focusing on education much.

But what if that person can be a star from her extracurricular activity?

Recently, I met a young girl who stopped gymnastics because her parents and teachers told her to, since she got a bit lower marks. But she is a great gymnast. Doesn’t this kill dreams? What we are passionate about, our purpose.

Society isolates people who don’t have a good education or a degree. We cannot be someone if that is not meant to be. If your purpose is not to be a doctor, you won’t be. That’s how the universe works. A person who doesn’t have a degree can be good at something, but because of low grades, they get judged and don’t even get a job.

You know what happens then? They won’t get money. If the purpose of getting a job is to make money, why can’t the school system teach us how to get money? Those people don’t get money anyway. They starve. They need food to live, but everything is at a high cost. They start stealing, though it wasn’t their fate. They get addicted to drugs because of problems, live with fear all their lives. Some get arrested.

Can’t we stop that? Can we just make people realize to think about others more?

Some thoughts aren’t even our thoughts. They come from other people. When we were kids, we were taught: go to school, go to college, get a job, get married, do your job, retire. We just exist and don’t live. We just work according to the system. After retirement, we do whatever we want? How funny is that?

You’re going to die without even feeling the world, just staying in others’ thoughts. We are here to live, not just to exist.

I know it’s super scary to change. Even to communicate. I am also scared because I was taught the same stuff: be a doctor, then everything’s going to be alright. But how? Society is cruel. Don’t go outside. Don’t do that. If I’m being real with you guys, I’ve grown up hearing the word DON’T most of the time.

I love my family a lot, but I hope they could understand me one day, for me, not for their expectations. When people expect a lot from you, you are scared even to do what you are good at.

I want change. But I can’t let go that easily. I’m trying. I’m trying to communicate more. But the feeling of being misunderstood stops me. I’m already a Substack author, what if they try to take it from me? This has become my safe space, and I love it here.

If you feel the same, I just want to say:

DON’T BE AFRAID.
EVEN IN HARD TIMES, TRUST YOURSELF.
TRUST UNIVERSAL TIMING.
IF YOU THINK THIS IS WRONG, IT IS.
CHOOSE YOU, EVEN IF IT’S HARD.
DON’T LET OTHER PEOPLE’S THOUGHTS CONTROL YOU.
YOU CAN CHANGE.
BE GRATEFUL.
THE UNIVERSE IS GIVING YOU BIG VISIONS BECAUSE YOU ARE WORTHY OF THEM.
YOU MATTER.

You are not alone in this. I’m with you guys <3

Even if the path seems unsure, go further you’ll see magic. When I slowly started to accept what I want, so many opportunities came. Don’t be afraid to choose what you really want.

Quick note: Please don’t be offended by this. I just want to help people who need this. I’ve been feeling this lately, stuck in my mind, and I wanted to release these thoughts and help anyone who needs it. I hope to build a community to talk about youth empowerment, opportunities to find the right careers, and how to build your own empire.

Thank you for reading. Feel free to give your feedback. 🤍

Just a space to sit, a breath to take,
No one gives, but they still dictate.
Told how to behave, told what to be,
Never the way I dreamed to see.

To wish is to hope, to hope is to expect,
A girl made to understand, never to reflect.
It’s my fault, I wanted the same,
To be listened to, to be more than a name.
All I asked was a moment, a touch,
But I guess I was expecting too much.

Family? Love? Just a punchline for you,
I grew up, I saw the truth.
Pride is spoken loud to everyone else,
Silence reserved just for myself.
Dreams laughed at, eyes rolling by,
I’m invisible, while they lie.
Changed myself to fit their scene,
What fool calls this love a dream?

Pressure hits, day by day,
Validation stolen, taken away.
After all I’ve done, all I’ve been,
No seat at the table, no place to fit in.

To wish is to hope, to hope is to expect,
A girl made to understand, never to reflect.
It’s my fault, I wanted the same,
To be listened to, to be more than a name.
All I asked was a moment, a touch,
But I guess I was expecting too much.

I wrote songs in my room, while they laughed loud,
Invisible shadows in a happy crowd.
Love only comes after I win,
Only then does the applause begin.
I won’t stop, I won’t bend,
I choose me, my dreams, my end.

Listen to this song: https://suno.com/s/t6rDnEDxXZvDy8gf

I never meant to become something horrible,
until I saw the true colors of the world.

Every color was dark,
yet a few too few were bright.

I never imagined a world without you, Mother,
yet I am forced to live in one
with a soul already dead.

You would be disappointed.
I know.

But tonight,
someone entered my garden beneath a sky full of stars.
And her heart shone brighter than the heavens,
hurting my eyes
because I had forgotten what light looked like.

Maybe I was the problem.
Maybe I still am.

I ruled with blood because love was never taught to me.
If forgiveness exists, I don’t deserve it
but I wonder if I’m allowed to try.

How do you apologize to the dead?
To the homes I burned,
to the names that turned into ash,
to the silence I created?

First… I’m sorry to myself.

I became what they called me.
A monster born from a buried child.

If I disappear, peace might bloom
but what about those I already ruined?
I count graves not in soil,
but in my chest.

I buried my art there.
My faith.
The boy who believed goodness was enough.

Someone told me I am not alone.
And that frightens me more than hatred ever did.

Because hope is delicate
and my hands have only known how to break.

If you don’t know what you’re doing every day, you can’t change your life.
If you don’t know your target, consistency becomes impossible.

So let’s start from the inside.

What Is Emotional Self-Improvement?

Emotional self-improvement is the practice of understanding your inner world: your thoughts, habits, moods, and reactions, so you can respond to life instead of reacting to it.

It’s not toxic positivity. Definitely not the narcissist vibe.
It’s not hustle culture.
It’s awareness + systems + compassion.

And it works.

If you aren’t aware of what you’re actually doing, you can’t change anything.

Journaling is not about being poetic.
It’s about tracking reality.

• What did I do today?

• What worked?

• What didn’t?

• How did I feel and why?

Measure your everyday progress, not your fantasies.

Think of it like measuring sea levels:
Once you know where the water actually is, you can make accurate decisions.
Your “gut feeling” becomes reliable only when it’s built on truth.

📌 Tip:
If you don’t know your purpose yet, that’s okay. I’ve written another post on finding your purpose through shadow questions and reflection I’ll link it here because clarity always comes before confidence.

https://open.substack.com/pub/bloomora/p/follow-your-heart?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=post%20viewer

2. One Goal. One System. No Drama.

Goals are useless without systems.

Dreams without action are just aesthetic thoughts.

Pick one goal.
Then build one system.

• Same action

• Same time

• Every day

Even when it feels boring.
Even when it feels stupid.
Even when motivation disappears.

If you want to be an author, write.
Publish even if it feels childish.
Your first work is not meant to be perfect. It’s meant to exist.

You cannot quit a system and then say, “This doesn’t work.”
The real question is: what if it works? Rewind your mind to think like this.

What if I fall? Oh my darling, what if you fly?

3. Mornings Decide Your Nervous System

How you wake up shapes your entire day.

Before rushing, before checking your phone, pause.

Say:

“I’m grateful I woke up today.”

Not dramatically. Just honestly.

Drink water or coffee.
Write whatever is in your mind, even last night’s dream. Make a gentle to-do list.

Also do meditation. So many successful people have done meditation a lot. Probably you heard about this but have you ever tried this consistently? How do you think you are gonna get what you want without doing anything for growth?

When your mind is clear, you stop panicking.
When you stop rushing in the morning, you don’t crash later.

Your body needs slowness to feel safe.

5. Walk. Move. Ground Yourself.

There is an art to walking.

Walking gives clarity.
Exercise releases endorphins.
Movement reminds you that you’re alive.

As a daydreamer, I rate walking 10/10. Personal experience!!

Happy body → clearer mind → better decisions.

6. Romanticize Your Life (Without Escaping It)

Stop saying:

• “I have to do this.”

• “I must finish that.”

Start saying:

• “Let’s get through this.”

• “This is part of my story.”

Light a candle.
Play music.
Talk to yourself in the mirror with confidence. Give yourself affirmations. In the mirror, talk like you are the best version of yourself. You’ll eventually start believing that cuz our brains don’t know what is real. What we believe becomes our reality. Visualize your success. That’s why people say vision board works.

This reconnects you with your inner child and confidence grows from safety.

Negative thoughts will still appear.
Don’t fight them.
Breathe when they come. Let them pass.

7. Learn Something, Anything

Confidence grows from knowledge. Personally, I cannot go into crowds without knowledge. Even to write this post, I did a little research.

Use your brain. It’s powerful. So many people did amazing stuff, literally mind-blowing stuff, using their brains. You can do that too.

Research something even random things. Research things that excite you. I even researched about octopus, so you are not alone in this!
First, it feels dumb and not cool, but curiosity expands your mind quietly.

We are special because we can learn, reflect, and grow.

So… use it.

8. Gratitude Changes the Direction of Life

Be grateful, out loud or in silence.

To God.
The universe.
Nature.
Your ancestors.
Your past self who survived hard days.

The more you are grateful, the more you manifest.

A grateful heart becomes a magnet for peace.

When Emotions Feel Heavy, Try This

• Overthinking → Write

• Anxious → Meditate

• Tired → Nap

• Stressed → Go for a walk

• Lazy → Reduce screen time

• Sad → Exercise

• Angry → Listen to music

• Burnt out → Read

Small actions. Big shifts.

Life is too short to spend it in war with yourself. Focus on being better than the person you were yesterday.

Self-improvement is not about becoming perfect.
It’s about choosing yourself daily, even quietly.

If this helped you, stay.
I write about clarity, growth, purpose, and building a life that truly feels like your own.

You’re not late.
You’re just starting consciously.

Because you’re the main character.
And you’re also the one writing the script.

You are so focused on your goals.
Every single day, you’re getting better and better.
There is nothing stopping you.

Let’s redefine “delusional” (before the weak misunderstand it)

When I say be delusional, I don’t mean losing touch with reality.
I mean choosing a reality before it exists and then behaving in alignment with it.

Psychology actually has a name for this:
motivated delusions or adaptive misbeliefs.

They’re not stupidity.
They’re survival.

Research shows that in deeply stressful, traumatic, or limiting environments, the human mind sometimes creates protective beliefs not because they’re objectively true, but because they allow the person to keep functioning instead of collapsing.

And functioning is everything.

Why delusion can save you (yes, save you)

1. It regulates your nervous system

When reality is overwhelming, brutal honesty can destroy you.
The brain under chronic stress floods itself with threat signals.

Believing a better version of reality even temporarily reduces anxiety, stabilizes mood, and prevents emotional shutdown.

In simple terms:
If your brain believes there’s a future worth moving toward, it keeps you alive and moving.

2. It protects self-esteem when the world tries to crush it

Clinical psychology has long observed that certain beliefs like exaggerated self-worth or unrealistic confidence can act as emotional armor.

They prevent:

• learned helplessness

• depressive spirals

• identity collapse after rejection or failure

That’s why people with unreasonable self-belief often outlast people with “realistic” thinking.

Reality didn’t reward realism.
It rewarded endurance.

3. It creates meaning when nothing makes sense

Humans cannot live in chaos for long.
We need coherence.
A story.
A reason.

Delusion gives your brain an explanation, a direction, a narrative especially when life feels random, unfair, or cruel.

And a mind with meaning is far more powerful than a mind with facts alone.

Imagination is your reality (yes, really)

Imagination is your reality. Be fucking delusional.

If you are thinking of it, it exists.
You are constantly manifesting outcomes, consciously and unconsciously.

Everything that happens to you, you participated in creating through attention, belief, and repeated thought.

Manifestation isn’t magic.
It’s creation.
It’s choosing a new state of being and thinking from the perspective of that version of you.

So when are you going to stop letting your ego and fear control you?
Fear feeds the system.
Fear feeds the matrix.

Go inward.
Think differently.
And reality is forced to respond.

Your subconscious mind is a printer.
Your thoughts are the ink.

You can have anything you want.
Anything.

The science behind the “delulu” mindset

Let’s get technical for a second.

Your brain has a system called the Reticular Activating System (RAS).

Its job?
To filter reality.

You do not see the world as it is.
You see the world as your brain has been trained to notice.

When you obsessively believe:

“I am that person.”

Your RAS starts scanning for:

• opportunities

• patterns

• connections

• confirmations

Not because the universe is magical but because your attention is weaponized.

Your subconscious becomes a printer.
Your thoughts are the ink.

And suddenly you’re not waiting.
You’re moving.

Delusion restores action (this is the key)

In early stages of psychological breakdown, the brain becomes overwhelmed by uncertainty.
Too many signals. Too much fear.

Forming a strong belief even an unproven one ends the paralysis.

That’s why delusion often comes before success.
Not after.

Confidence doesn’t follow proof.
Proof follows action.
Action follows belief.

This is where consistency and audacity enter

Delusion alone isn’t enough.

You need:

Consistency - showing up even when the fantasy hasn’t caught up yet.

Audacity the willingness to take space, to want more, to act like you belong in rooms you haven’t earned yet.

Together?
You become unbearable to the system.

Because systems depend on:

• self-doubt

• fear

• obedience

A delusional, consistent, audacious person doesn’t ask for permission.
They rewrite the script.

A warning (because I’m not irresponsible)

This is not about denying reality forever.
This is about using belief as a tool not letting it use you.

You don’t hallucinate.
You don’t escape.

You decide.

You choose a future identity and act from its perspective.
That’s not madness.
That’s strategy.

Be delusional enough to think you’re different.

Be consistent enough to prove it.

Be audacious enough to take what you want without shrinking.

Because the people who change their lives were never the most realistic.

They were the most convinced.

Be fucking delusional.

An apology is a political gesture; it is also a confrontation with collective memory and silence. For decades, the suffering of Indigenous people had been treated as little more than a historical footnote, rather than as ongoing violence. The government’s words closed a chapter, but they opened another-one questioning whether a nation can ever repay a moral debt. Reparations and apologies are not bargains of guilt but acts of moral recognition-proof that injustice outlives its laws for generations. The Canadian apology reminded us that the maturity of a society lies not in how it forgets its sins but in how it chooses to remember them. And yet, beneath the solemn vows, one question seemed to linger: why are some injustices brought into the reluctant light of national shame while others remain buried in silence?

Most societies do not decide to apologize based on moral righteousness alone. They do it when silence becomes heavier than truth, when the past is pained loudly at the present and refuses to allow life to be lived normally. In 1996, South Africa established the TRC, with Archbishop Desmond Tutu at its helm, as a process of confronting the trauma of apartheid. Victims stood before institutions that at one time had taken their dignity away and testified against torture, exile, and loss. Some forgave; others simply wanted to be heard. The TRC did not erase pain, but it marked a turning point: a recognition that reconciliation is impossible without truth. Its success shows that when injustice is recent, visible, and collectively remembered, nations are compelled to apologize-not out of generosity, but out of necessity.

History also demonstrates the limits of compassion. Japan’s government has long refused a full apology to the “comfort women” enslaved by its military during World War II. Despite extensive historical evidence and living witnesses, political leaders have dismissed the past as a bygone chapter to preserve national pride (Soh). Denial reveals how patriotism can blind nations to moral duty. The United States provides a different contrast: in 1988, Congress passed the Civil Liberties Act, officially apologizing to Japanese Americans unjustly interned during World War II. Survivors received a letter of apology and $20,000 in compensation—symbolic, but powerful (Hatamiya 214). Yet, the heirs of enslaved Africans, whose forced labor built the country’s wealth, have never received an apology or reparations. This irony reveals a troubling pattern: nations tend to apologize for sins already condemned by history, not for those that demand deep institutional change.

Apologies are, therefore, less displays of humility than of strength. They are issued not when a nation reaches its moral limit but when it decides confession is safe. The moral character of a people is measured not by the easy apologies it makes but by the difficult ones it avoids - those requiring a return to the very roots of its wrongdoing.

If apologies expose a nation’s conscience, reparations reveal the depth of its commitment. An apology acknowledges blame; reparations attempt to undo it. The difference is critical, for words, however sincere, cannot rebuild what centuries have broken. True justice demands restitution, not just recognition. The word reparation comes from the Latin reparare, meaning “to bring back to wholeness.” According to philosopher Olúfémi Táíwò, reparations are not about falling behind history but about restoring the moral conditions it destroyed (Táíwò 58). Yet, when nations confront their past, they often mistake closure for healing, assuming regret will let them off the hook. Real justice, on the other hand, requires that memory lead to transformation, not mere remorse.


That 2008 apology to Indigenous peoples in Canada came with promises of education, healthcare, and revitalization funding. Yet over a decade later, many communities still have undrinkable water, underfunded schools, and youth suicide rates among the highest in the developed world. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission documented much of it in 2015. These profound struggles continue to expose the limits of symbolic atonement: when apologies exist in isolation, they risk becoming performances of sympathy rather than instruments of justice. Apology is speech; reparation is action. Only when action accompanies acknowledgment can the moral burden of history be lifted from memory to mending.

If reparations are a measure of a society’s courage, deciding which injustices to redress tests its wisdom. Not all injustices are equal in scope or moral gravity, but history shows that visibility, regency, and political expedience often determine which wrongs receive attention. Three criteria are needed for a fairer moral framework. First, continuity of harm-when the legacy of an injustice continues to harm descendants, as with Indigenous Canadians or African Americans, moral repair is essential. Second, determinability of responsibility-if the state or its successor institutions can be clearly held accountable, justice demands they act. Third, educative impact-reparations should not merely restore; they must teach and alter public understanding to prevent recurrence. When measured against these principles, Canada’s apology was meaningful only in conjunction with enduring reform. Japan’s denial of its wartime crimes, by contrast, illustrates how evading responsibility erodes moral credibility and perpetuates pain (Soh).


Apologies, by themselves, rarely achieve justice. The experiences of South Africa, Canada, Japan, and the United States make clear that moral recognition is futile without structural repair. A nation’s integrity is tested not by its capacity to feel regret but by its readiness to rebuild. Societies must consider harm, responsibility, and transformative potential, not political convenience or image, in confronting their past. Words may heal wounds, but it is actions that can cure them. Justice prevails only when remembrance becomes repair, the sorrow of a nation becomes its strength, and an apology is not an end but a beginning.