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 find myself wishing,
Dreaming of the impossible.
And expanding roads,
Stretched beyond the horizon,
A clear view.
Stretch your limits, she says,
Open your mind.
Outside of normal,
When nothing seems to work.
Exit loopy paths —
Step aside, beside yourself.
Watch the real you,
Concentrate, hold still.
Close your eyes now
Look up, look around,
Things make sense now.
Boats float behind you,
Housing tons of possessions.
Wrapped in boxes,
Gold foil on the outside
And a purple bow.
Yet quite unique.
Holding it close to my body,
Impossible to carry.
Help! Angry writers are after me.
I’ve tried my best to explain that I am not their enemy. I just needed a new hobby as my tomato plants died from overwatering. You’ve been losing money, views, and read time, but that’s not my fault. I swear.
Yesterday I was threatened to be banned from Twitter.
Someone egged my parent's house the day before but only reached the lawn as they followed social distancing norms. Since I’ve been outed as the culprit, I haven’t been able to eat, sleep or clap.
Can you believe it? What’s the point of living then?
I’ve spent the greater part of last year languishing. I’ve thought, dealt with, and written extensively about my failing mental health.
Grief, anger, and fatigue have been my constant companions, and I might miss them when all this is over. Every time I tried to focus on the bright side, the things that are working for me, guilt flooded my mind.
I’ve even discredited some of the negative experiences and challenges I was facing, as others dealt with worse — far worse.
They say time heals, but that has never been the case with me. Terrible memories of my past…
Not so long ago, my Monday mornings started with 200+ unopened work emails. I would sift through them in the bathroom, respond to the urgent ones from home, and head over to work to deal with the rest.
I worked for a startup where I led a one-member HR team. I had an intern working with me for a while, but that just meant setting up more rigid goals for myself. I had cold calls to make, angry candidates to attend to, and explain our leave policy to some team members, yet again.
On the way, delayed by emails and…
I am a self-help junkie, and I need help.
Before I recover and start the revolutionary process of thinking for myself, there’s one step I need to complete.
After seeing it in a dream last night, I am fully convinced that this is the correct way to proceed, as the only person I can trust right now is myself. They are everywhere, on my phone, laptop, tablet, and even the back of my head. Sadly, a 100% infiltration was completed in 2018.
Back in my day, oh my, I can’t believe I actually used that phrase. …
We’re all different, and we look at things differently. This causes fights to erupt about the weirdest topics, such as the correct fit of jeans.
I believe that we share at least one constant — a pattern we engage in, probably one to five times a day, and that is questioning life.
Especially after the last year and a half, pondering about my purpose pops up at the most inconvenient times and refuses to go away without a satisfactory answer.
On most days, my mind goes, “Life is…” and reaches a blank. At times, I don’t know what’s real anymore…
I refuse to work on weekends, I declared to my inner critic.
“Then can you still call it a 30-day challenge?”
I can; it will just take one and a half months to complete.
It’s more essential to complete the goal than to achieve a record time. Overwhelming myself is only going to make things worse and can actually lead to an unsuccessful outcome.
Then, not only will I be afraid of trying, but I will also have to deal with the guilt of not giving myself a fair shot.
“There are two fatal errors that keep great projects…
Short raspy breaths,
The flutter of the heart.
Delaying the inevitable,
The worry of —
what was to come.
When the mind is still,
It runs fast.
Jagged, mysterious, and murky,
Thoughts bubble away,
Right underneath the surface.
A cesspool of memories,
Some I told you so.
I long for the sea,
Blank stares and wishful gazing.
Carry me now,
And carry me far,
To the place, you meet the sky.
Where clouds float above,
Where I leave my past,
Caress my feet with —
salt and water. …