I became so addicted to happiness

that I forgot the cost

I just wanted to smile

no matter what I sucked it all in

and forced the pain away

I laughed and hid my fears

I was too scared

too scared to admit

that am beyond help

But my addiction refuses any of my solutions

so I smile

so I laugh

and let this drug

kill me slowly

There’s so much on my mind,

Too much to capture in words,

Weighing heavy on my brain,

Making it hard to concentrate.

I wonder how I'll chase it,

My heart doesn’t care,

But my mind still wanders.

My heart has retired,

But my mind keeps running.

So I shut it down,

And let it wash over me.

I gaze at the sky—blue with a few scattered clouds—and wonder what lies beyond it. They say the sky is the limit, but is it? Is it truly the farthest we can go? I believe, and I know deep down, that how far we go is determined by the choices we make.

In my book, A Hurt Heart Mended, there’s a chapter titled You Can Choose Your Story. It’s about the power of choice in shaping our lives. You can be anyone you want to be—if you choose it. You could become the next Bill Gates, the next Albert Einstein, or carve a unique path of your own. The possibilities are infinite, as long as you dare to choose and believe in your potential.

Life doesn’t hand you a pre-written script. We are all given a blank page, a story unwritten, and the ink is in your hands. Every decision you make, every path you choose, writes the chapters of your journey. It may be hard, and sometimes it may seem like the obstacles are too much, but each challenge is part of your narrative—each setback is a lesson that strengthens you for the next step forward.

We are not defined by our circumstances but by how we respond to them. You may have moments where you feel lost, unsure of what comes next, but remember, your choices today shape the reality of tomorrow. It’s in your hands to choose what story you want to tell. Will you let fear or doubt hold you back, or will you push forward with courage, ready to embrace the endless possibilities that lie ahead?

No one’s story is written in stone, not even the greats. Bill Gates didn’t become who he is by accepting the limits others imposed on him. Albert Einstein didn’t settle for being ordinary; he embraced his curiosity and defied the conventional expectations of his time. They, like you, chose to write their own stories, one decision at a time.

And what if you can’t see the way forward just yet? What if the road is unclear or uncertain? That’s okay. Sometimes, the path to your true potential is not always visible at first, but if you keep walking, keep choosing, the way will reveal itself. The key is to keep believing in yourself, even when the future feels distant or unknown.

You can choose. The sky might seem like the limit, but if you choose to stretch beyond, you’ll discover that there is no limit at all.

As I sit here, my hands tremble. Did I make the right decision?

The feeling is not unlike the trauma one might feel when passing by the site of an old tragedy—an accident, a loss, a betrayal. That place, etched into memory, holds the power to shake you to your core, just as trust, once broken, becomes so difficult to rebuild.

I wonder if I’ll ever accept what happened to me and move on. I’ve been told countless times not to let the weight of the past dictate the course of my life. I’ve even quoted those very words: The situations we face should not become excuses for standing still.

But is it truly just an excuse? Or is it the reality of scars that refuse to fade, of a heart that still aches despite the passage of time?

I’ve come to believe that life is like a triangle, with three sides: spiritual, emotional, and physical. If one side falters, the triangle collapses, leaving life incomplete. Like the traditional three stones used to support a cooking pot, all must work together—remove one, and the pot cannot balance.

Sometimes, I feel like my triangle is cracked. My spiritual side is weighed down by questions I cannot answer, my emotions are tangled in a web of pain and uncertainty, and my physical self bears the toll of sleepless nights and endless worry. I try to rebuild, but the cracks seem too wide, the pieces too fragile.

And yet, there’s a small voice within me that whispers: You are still here. You have not given up. Perhaps life doesn’t demand perfection, but persistence. Perhaps the broken triangle can still hold together, even if it isn’t flawless.

And so, I sit here, facing the question that refuses to let me go:

Can my life ever feel whole again? Can I truly function while carrying the weight of my past?

Maybe the answer isn’t found in forgetting but in learning to carry it differently—in finding strength not despite the cracks, but because of them.

At some point in life, we all find ourselves asking the big questions: What is my purpose? Why am I here? For many, this sense of uncertainty can be overwhelming, leading to feelings of confusion, self-doubt, and the fear of making the wrong choice. It's the kind of question that seems so vast and unanswerable, often leaving us lost in a sea of possibilities. In the song "What Was I Made For?" by Billie Eilish, the artist captures this exact sentiment, expressing a longing for direction and the frustration of not knowing one's place in the world. The lyrics echo a common inner dialogue many people experience, especially during moments of transition or self-reflection.

We live in a world where everyone seems to have it all figured out—career paths, relationships, and dreams laid out before them. But for those of us who are unsure, the constant comparison can make the uncertainty even harder to bear. We wonder, Am I on the right path? How do I know which direction to go in? And if I make the wrong choice, how will I find my way back?

The search for purpose is not an easy one, and the answers rarely come immediately. Often, the most profound realizations happen when we stop overthinking and begin to embrace the journey, even when we don’t have all the answers. Life doesn’t always provide a clear-cut map, but sometimes that’s part of the beauty—learning as we go, finding meaning in unexpected places, and growing from our mistakes.

One of the biggest challenges of finding purpose is the fear of getting lost along the way. The world seems full of endless options, and sometimes, the pressure to pick the “right” one feels paralyzing. But the reality is that no path is ever entirely linear. Life is full of twists and turns, each experience adding a layer of understanding to who we are and what we want from life. Instead of focusing solely on the destination, it might be helpful to shift the perspective to the present moment. What brings you joy? What are you passionate about? The answers to these questions can often lead you in the right direction, even if the steps are small and uncertain.

One of the most important things to remember is that it's okay to not have everything figured out. The key is to trust yourself. You don’t need to have the entire map of your life drawn out right now; instead, trust that each step you take will lead you closer to understanding your purpose. It’s okay to wander and even get lost sometimes, because those moments often teach us the most.

Sometimes, your purpose isn’t a singular, grand destination. It could be a collection of things that make you feel alive—your passions, the people you connect with, and the way you impact the world around you. And while it’s important to have goals and aspirations, it’s just as important to give yourself the space to explore and evolve.

While the fear of being lost is real, there is also a strange freedom in not knowing the exact path ahead. It allows room for growth, for trying new things, and for discovering parts of yourself you might not have known otherwise. Life is a journey, and with each twist and turn, we uncover a little more of what it means to be truly alive. As you reflect on your own path and question your purpose, remember that it’s not about having all the answers right now. The answers will come in time, through experiences, through challenges, and through moments of self-reflection. Embrace the uncertainty—it’s part of the journey.

I know how it feels to be judged—to carry the weight of eyes that only see your faults, to suffocate under assumptions that strip away your truth. I know how it feels to gasp for breath, yearning for someone to truly listen, only to be met with silence or dismissal. I know how it feels to not be understood, to speak a language no one seems willing to learn.

Sometimes, I wish things could be different. I wish I could rewind time—to the day before it all began, to the hour or even the minute before judgment became my shadow. Those moments, though fleeting, felt lighter than the heaviness I carry now. How I wish I wasn’t the one chosen to bear this weight.

I’ve often thought of myself as the black sheep among the rest, the one who stands apart—not because of choice, but because of circumstance. Perhaps I’m the indifferent one, the one who doesn’t quite fit the mold. And yet, this difference makes me a target, a canvas for misunderstanding and misplaced blame.

When I say I know how it feels, I mean it with every fiber of my being. But what I wish most is for you to truly understand. If only you could step into my shoes, even for a moment. Yet, I know that’s impossible. Your feet are either too big or too small, and no matter how hard you try or how earnestly you claim to understand, you never will. You may empathize, but you can never fully know what it’s like to walk my path, to bear my pain.

It’s frustrating when people say, “I get it,” because they don’t. They can’t. My struggles are mine alone, as unique as the print of my sole. And though I’ve longed for someone to fill these shoes, to share this burden, I’ve come to realize that it’s not about them walking in my shoes. It’s about them standing beside me, offering support as I walk my path.

Perhaps one day, someone will truly see me—not as a black sheep or an outsider, but as a person with a story worth understanding. Until then, I will keep walking, even if the shoes feel too heavy and the road too lonely. Because, in the end, this path is mine, and only I can walk it.

We often find ourselves trapped in a cycle where our actions and achievements are scrutinized through the lens of public opinion. When someone falls or stumbles, the immediate reaction is often embarrassment—concerned more about what others might think than about the injury or discomfort. This tendency extends beyond physical slips and spills, permeating our daily lives and our sense of self-worth.

In life, failure is frequently met with a sense of shame, driven by the fear of judgment. We become preoccupied with how our failures are perceived by others, losing sight of the personal impact these setbacks have on us. This focus on external validation means that our successes become mere exhibits for public approval, rather than personal triumphs. We celebrate achievements not for their intrinsic value but for how they are perceived by others.

This pattern reflects a broader societal issue where personal pride and self-worth are often overshadowed by the need for external validation. We find ourselves in a cycle where our successes are not truly our own but are instead showcased for others to see, while our failures become sources of embarrassment. In this environment, we lose sight of the true value of our actions and the importance of personal fulfillment.

Breaking free from this cycle requires a shift in perspective. We must learn to value our own achievements for their true worth and to accept our failures as part of our growth, rather than as reflections of our worthiness. Only then can we find genuine pride in our endeavors and embrace our journey with authenticity and self-respect.

It started like any other day. I woke up expecting things to be the same—ordinary, predictable. But I had no idea that everything would change.

The fear I had always carried quietly in my heart had finally come to life. My world froze, stopped dead in its tracks. Pain, devastation, and brokenness crawled back to me, each emotion battling for dominance in a storm of confusion.

I wished, with every fiber of my being, that it was just a nightmare—a terrible dream I could wake up from. But no. This was real. I was more awake than I’d ever been, yet I felt paralyzed, unable to cope with the whirlwind around me.

Everything happened so fast, and amidst it all, their pity cut through me like a knife. It wasn’t genuine. It was hollow, a mask hiding their judgment. Their stares burned into me—cold, piercing, and unforgiving. Whispers followed me like ghosts, haunting my every step. They thought I didn’t notice, but I did. I noticed it all.

They talked as though they knew me, each with their own twisted version of my story. Rumors spread like wildfire, and I was the fuel keeping their flames alive. I had my truth, but no one cared to hear it. I pleaded, my voice breaking, but they turned me away as if I didn’t matter.

Meltdowns and breakdowns became my constant companions, shadowing me wherever I went. They seeped into my soul, becoming a part of who I was.

The girl who once clung to hope in the face of difficulty was gone. All that remained was helplessness—a silent scream in a world that refused to listen.

Tick-tock, tick-tock—each second, each minute, each hour, I can hear my watch ticking so loudly. Time marches on, indifferent to the chaos within me. Voices surround me, some shattering like glass, others slicing through the air, penetrating deep into my mind. Every word cuts me, a slow and relentless erosion of my spirit, killing a little more inside. Soon enough, I fear I'll become the so-called walking dead, a hollow shell moving through the motions of life.

But there's one thing I forgot to tell you: my mind hears it all, cataloging every slight, every wound, yet my heart… my heart has lost its sense of feeling hurt. It's grown so accustomed to the pain, to the endless cycle of breaking and mending, that it doesn’t even care anymore. The ache that once consumed me has dulled to a numbness, a quiet resignation. So, brain, do your thing—analyze, protect, and distance yourself. My heart has retired, weary from the burden of emotions it can no longer bear.

In this silence, I find a strange comfort, a peace that comes from accepting the inevitable. The tick-tock fades into the background, a reminder that time heals, or perhaps, time simply numbs. Either way, I continue, a soldier of routine, with a mind sharp as ever but a heart that has chosen to rest.

Words swirl in my mind, yet they refuse to form anything solid. It’s like I’m in a constant race, always running, never able to stop. Behind me, emotions loom—fear, confusion, anger—closing in like shadows I can’t escape.

"Get out of my mind!" I shout silently, desperate for peace. "I'm done playing your games, done with the lies you whisper."

But they don’t listen. They keep scribbling over the pages of my life, distorting the story I want to tell. One day, they paint it with joy, a picture-perfect happiness; the next, they tear it apart, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.

Can you just leave me alone? Let me breathe, let me think, let me write my own story, free from your relentless grip. I want to craft a life of my own making, not live a script you’ve written, full of twisted plots and unpredictable turns.

But even as I demand my freedom, I know the truth—they are part of me. These feelings, these thoughts—they’re mine, and they’re not going anywhere. So maybe, instead of running, it’s time to face them. To take back the pen, and write my story, not in spite of them, but with them. Because maybe, just maybe, the story they help me write will be one worth telling.