I grew up in a collectivistic society, where the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” wasn’t open-ended.
The only acceptable answer, especially for those who performed better than average at school, was a Doctor or an Engineer. When I announced at fourteen that the field of medicine isn’t the right fit for me, I was met with several sad and disappointed eyes.
After all, who would inherit my Father’s Stethoscope? — This was a real question posed to me, intended to guilt me into submission.
My personality was not in accordance with my gender’s guide…
I want to go on a tropical vacay, but I could also settle for a few nights of continuous sleep. One month after my Pandemic Anniversary, this is my answer to the question, “What do you really want right now?”.
Weirdly, two diametrically opposite things come to mind, and I cannot choose which one I want more.
Initially, I tried to answer a writing prompt and list my pandemic reflections, but two days of staring at the cursor rapidly blinking on a blank page taught me that I am not in the headspace to do so right now.
I first learned the term midlife crisis during an inconspicuous undergrad class. We were reading about the psycho-social developmental stages of humans, the various theories that had made their way into our books, and their analysis and criticisms.
My first reaction was that of shock, as back then, I had my life thoroughly planned out. By 45, I would be high up on the corporate ladder, enjoying the view. I would mentor young women and help them reach leadership positions.
If I met a person who was brave enough to deal with me, then I would be sharing my life…
I’ve been struggling to control my mind of late. It’s been slippery, quick, and confident being on its own. And now that I spell it out, it sounds like I am describing an eel.
Anyways, the thing is, it refuses furiously to commit to anything, whether writing, cooking, or taking some time off.
That last one is a big surprise for me, as I’ve always considered it to be an exceptional skill. No matter what is happening in my life, or if the world is ending, I could always grab my blanket, play a movie, and flop on my bed.
Liquid pouring on my wrists,
rubbing it in my hand,
A fix for my face,
no remedy for the soul.
Cobwebs in my eyes,
distorting my field of vision,
Remove them, tear them off,
my palms are empty.
Look at a mirror,
stare at the reflection,
Everything is clear,
but can’t focus for long.
Lights in the sky,
the red glow of pollution,
Shush, squint your eyes,
pretend it’s Aurora.
Living in a minefield,
another piece of shit town.
False promises of eternity,
of immortality and impact.
Where reality ceases to exist,
and dreams go to die.
Filtered faces, filtered…
2 a.m., it’s time,
wrap up your day, my love.
Riding the high, waiting,
waiting for it to shut off my mind.
Could there be a button for it?
Or maybe one called sleep.
The mill churns out memories,
flashbacks of my war.
Could I call it one, though?
When it’s only in my head.
Crooked wrinkles and
creased fine lines,
Let them all out, let it out,
the murmurs of the night.
3 a.m., it’s time,
close your eyes and keep ’em closed.
Take long breaths,
not short jagged ones. …
I am a fully grown 30-year-old woman who is mildly addicted to everything made for teens. I like to think that I am a well-adjusted adult, but my Netflix viewing history says otherwise.
I am not entirely sure what it is, but the feel-good vibes that emerge from a cheesy rom-com or a teen drama are my go-to guilty pleasure. It takes me to a happy place, although ironically, my own teenage years contained scarce bits of happiness.
A recent accomplishment of mine was that I couldn’t sit through Dawson’s Creek’s first season. …
I’ve wanted to share my thoughts regarding my body for more than a year now and haven’t been able to.
This was one of the first topics I wanted to cover, even before I started writing on this platform. I wanted to talk about things that no one talks about, and although body positivity has been a massive movement in the recent past, there was still stuff that I wanted to get off my chest.
At first, I believed that I didn’t get to writing this piece because I wasn’t ready for it. That I wasn’t brave enough. …
The last decade has seen me transform from a 20 something dysfunctional individual refusing to adult to a 30 something self-aware human trying her best to adult and figure shit out.
I’ve worked hard on myself and grown into myself, accepting all my dualities. I’ve traded my party heels for a never-ending contract with Netflix.
And there’s never been a time where I’ve been more accepting of the messiness, unpredictability, and indifference of life.
One trend that has refused to die out through all these changes is the social pressure to always be seen with my significant other. I am…
When I started writing in May of 2019, I had a singular goal in mind: I wanted to tell my story. Back then, my idea of an article was completely different from what it is now. Perfection was a goal in itself, and every piece was designed to choose quality over quantity.
I wanted to pick a topic that I had some experience with and present the reader with an informative, coherent, and step-by-step discourse of inward journeys completing my current understanding in said area.
I supported my opinions with research, added pictures that would help tell my story better…