Capturing stories❤️

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."  - Ralph Waldo Emerson Two Versions of Me. Neither Fully Understood. I don't know what to call myself. An empath? Maybe. Someone who understands people a little too well? Possibly. Someone who trusts too easily, shows up too quickly, and quietly tries to hold the people they love in place - control them, even, under the disguise of caring? Also possibly. I haven't figured that part out yet. Have you ever tried to put yourself in a category and realised you don't fully fit any of them? Easy to Talk To. Hard to Love. "We accept the love we think we deserve."  - Stephen Chbosky I have always been the person people come to. The one who listens, who remembers, who makes space. Conversations find me easily. People open up to me like I am a door that was already unlocked. But somewhere between being easy to talk to and being easy to love - I ...

"Language has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone." — Paul Tillich Two Words. One Massive Difference. The art of being alone is something we all eventually have to learn. But there is a massive, incredibly important difference between being alone and being lonely — a line that so many of us blur without even realizing it. Solitude is a choice. It is quiet, restorative, and intentional. It is the feeling of sitting with yourself and actually enjoying the company. Loneliness is something else entirely. It is the hollow ache of feeling unseen, even in a room full of people. It is the silence that feels like punishment rather than peace. I know this difference not because I read about it — but because I have lived on both sides of it. When Solitude Becomes Something Darker There were stretches of my life when what I called "needing space" was really j...

Making friends as an adult is… weird. Not impossible. Not always painful. But definitely strange. When we were younger, friendships happened almost automatically. You sat next to someone in class, shared lunch, laughed at the same silly things, and suddenly you were friends. No overthinking. No analysis. But adulthood changes the rules. Especially if you're an introverted person. Meeting new people as an adult often feels like stepping into a room full of invisible questions. When you meet a new group of people — maybe friends of friends — your mind starts running faster than the conversation itself. Will they like me? How do I fit into this group? Will they feel comfortable around me? Am I being too quiet? Too awkward? Too much? And before you even realize it, you're judging yourself more than anyone else possibly could. Every word feels like it mattrealiseers. Every pause feels louder than it should. Every small interaction gets replayed later in your mind like a movie scene ...

Adult friendships are different. They don’t announce their beginning, and they almost never announce their end. We meet people without knowing how important they will become. We grow close—slowly, naturally. We share laughter, inside jokes no one else would understand, late-night conversations that stretch into early mornings, and silences that feel safe instead of awkward. And then, quietly, life steps in. Paths shift. Priorities change. Responsibilities grow heavier. Distance creeps in—not always physically, but emotionally. And what hurts the most is that nothing bad really happens. The memories stay. The laughter stays. The jokes stay. Everything stays… except the closeness. Somewhere deep within, we sense when things are about to change. We feel it in delayed replies, in conversations that no longer flow the same way, in the effort that slowly becomes one-sided. We know it before it happens. Yet knowing doesn’t make accepting any easier. I am someone who values frien...

So, my 2026 didn’t tiptoe in quietly. It walked in with a literal bang . Yes, a banggg . On 2nd January 2026, I met with an accident. There are stitches, pain that still lingers, and days that forced me to slow down, whether I liked it or not. And here I am—recovering, reading, reflecting, and writing my very first blog of 2026 from a situation I didn’t plan to be, but may need to be. The first few days felt unreal. Adrenaline kept me going, pretending everything was fine. Then it faded, and the pain tried to take over—physically and mentally. There were moments when it felt overwhelming, but I resisted letting it consume me. Instead, I chose to focus on healing. On listening to my body. On allowing rest without guilt. Six days later, I’m still sore, still recovering,  but stronger in ways I didn’t expect. Lately, I’ve been studying myself more than anything else. Overthinking. Journaling. Self-care. Self-love. Ironically, understanding my overthinking has taken away ...

There are some feelings that simply refuse to fit into words—no matter how hard we try. That’s exactly how I felt when Shrikant Bhola sir started speaking. Honestly, at the beginning, I assumed it would be just like every other session where we quietly wait for time to pass. But this one… this one was different. Within minutes, I found myself completely absorbed. His words didn’t just reach my ears—they reached something deeper. I was so captivated that I kept scribbling down every sentence in my notepad, adding my own thoughts in the margins, trying to hold onto every ounce of inspiration he was pouring into the room. What amazed me the most was how someone with no real vision could have such a beautiful and profound vision for life. When he said, “Words are magic and a tool of manifestation,” something in me just stopped. That line has etched itself into my mind. It was simple, yet powerful—like it carried an entire philosophy within it. After the seminar, I felt speechle...