English
Overthinking is when the mind keeps running even when the heart is tired. We replay old moments, imagine future problems, and create fears that do not even exist yet. Slowly, peace slips away not because life is hard, but because our thoughts never rest. The art of not overthinking is
English
Red‑pill content doesn’t just sell advice, it plants fear. It teaches men to see relationships as power games, women as threats, and vulnerability as weakness. It convinces people that love must be earned through dominance, money, or emotional distance, rather than mutual respect and growth. What it’s
English
A quiet clock inhales the night, Twelve breaths held, then set to fly. Old worries loosen their tight grip, Like leaves that finally say goodbye. The year ahead stands, clean and wide, A page still warm from winter’s hand. With hopeful ink and steady heart, We write our dreams
Essay
If it was meant to be, it would have happened—people love to say that, as if fate works alone, as if it doesn’t sometimes wait for hands brave enough to reach for it. I’ve learned that destiny isn’t rigid; it bends. There are endless paths, countless
Poem
little girl gazed out of the window, Watching a small bird learning to fly, And the endless blue sky waiting for her, Calling her beyond her quiet sigh. After a few moments of hesitation, The trembling wings chose faith over fear, At last the bird took flight, Dancing freely, crystal-clear.
Poem
The sky never asks why we look up when we’re hurting. It just stays— wide enough to hold every unsaid prayer. Some days it’s heavy with clouds, some days quietly blue, just like us. No matter how many times we break, the sky reminds us— there is always
Poem
They call it love I call it detachment because when you love a flower you won't pluck it— you'll let it stay. They call it love I call it attachment because when a mom hugs her child She wishes to stay still and never let go.
Poem
When we are children, we are taught to write with a pencil. Not because it is easier to hold, but because it is easier to erase. At that age, mistakes don’t scare us. A wrong letter, a crooked line, one rub of the eraser and it is gone. No
Poem
Being alone isn’t about having no one. It’s about sitting with your thoughts when the world goes silent. It’s learning to hear your own voice without fear, to feel everything you kept buried under noise and smiles. Alone is not empty. It’s a space where you
Poem
A little sparkle, a shiny spectacle Innocence was her virtue, her desire We call this our soul Holding her sterility Sometimes though earth shatters The land shifts subtly under the ground Knee crumbles onto a fetal position The stomach bounces in sense of doom Yet the little sparkle, delightful in
Poem
I know how the world works the metaphors are imaginative and a rule is the pattern the universe follows But really! I want to be the exception they bewilderingly talk about in the movies, in the romance novels where a man who never believed in love falls heavily for a
Poem
The smoke rises slowly, carrying words that were never spoken. It fades into the air, just like feelings we pretend don’t exist. For a moment, it feels warm, comforting even— then it disappears, leaving behind a quiet ache. Some people don’t heal. They turn their pain into smoke—