thoughts don't deserve sequels.

“the more you go through, the more you don’t need to.”

we’re built like that.

we’re supposed to be like that.

pain teaches. patterns repeat. 
and your brain? it remembers.

not everything that tickles your mind is trying to move in and live rent-free to haunt you.

sometimes, it’s just knocking to say—
“yo. chill. we’ve done this before.
take a breath. think through.
there’s an easier way out. trust me, you’ll find your way home.”

even legends say—if you see the same tree twice in a forest, you’re lost.

but the catch is... now you know you’re lost.
and knowing is already step one.

overthinking has two branches:
one leads you deeper into the dark,
the other reminds you where the light is.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

you're on your own, kid.

it’s only up to a point that you are raised. what happens after that? you grow up. and no one really tells you when that happens. maybe it's the night you realize no one's gonna check on you if whether you got home safe. maybe it's the morning your coffee tastes more like survival than comfort. but it happens. suddenly, you’re not being told what to do. you’re just expected to know. how to feel. how to stay calm. how to move on. how to 'be okay'. and you start seeing people for what and who they are. not heroes. not villains. just people. flawed. tired. trying. your parents become stories you understand backwards. your friends become mirrors, and some of them crack. and you? you become quieter.  not because you’ve got nothing to say, but because you’ve figured out and learned what’s worth saying. growing up isn’t some grand revelation. it’s subtle. might even be boring. it’s bills. it’s boundaries. it’s choosing peace over proving a point. it’s crying without needin...
Read more

taste like home.

you’re my favourite outfit, i’d wear you on me all day. you’re my favourite book, i’ll never be tired to read you all night. you’re my favourite song, i’d play you on loop until the world gets sick of us. you’re my favourite place, i’d keep coming back to you even when i’m lost in myself. you’re my favourite poem, not the rhyming kind—just the kind that feels like something. you’re my favourite meal, and i ain’t worried about calories when it’s you. you’re my favourite silence, the one that doesn't need filling. you’re my favourite chaos, the kind i’d choose even on my sanest days. you’re my favourite mistake, and i’d still make you again—eyes open, heart first. and maybe i’m too much sometimes, but you? you’re just enough in all the right ways. not perfect. not polished. but real. and that’s all i’ve ever wanted— not a fantasy. not a forever. just someone i’d pick again even when everything else changes. even when i’m nothing like who i used to be. i’d still pick you. i’d still we...
Read more

Cook or Be Cooked

Why is it that when a man cooks, it’s called art , but when a woman does the same, it’s her duty ?  When did basic survival skills become gender-specific? Cooking isn’t masculine or feminine—it’s just human . The moment we assigned tasks to genders, we failed the whole point of equality, fellow young men. Somewhere down the line, we decided that wearing pink is “ too girly ”, being into skincare or mehndi is “ not manly ”, and having female friends is “ suspicious .” Let’s be honest—none of this has anything to do with biology. Expression doesn’t belong to one gender. Comfort isn’t gender-coded. And confidence doesn’t come from insecurity disguised as tradition, fellow young men. “Name a famous female chef,” you say—as if the world ever gave her the space to thrive without dragging her back with your labels. Women aren’t “ weaker .” They’ve just had to fight twice as hard to be seen , all while we sat comfortably behind the systems built to favor us. Stop mistaking your insecurity ...
Read more