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Quiet Strength Reflection: Some Mornings Are for Surviving, Not Sharing
A letter to the mornings that come with weight. No advice, no bright sides. Just survival, silence, and maybe… the smallest sense of peace.
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Body Remembers Trauma: Cut the Crap and Start Healing
It wasn’t funny then. It’s not funny now. The stumbles, the creepy nicknames, the touches that weren’t accidents. And that thudding in your chest? That was your body sounding the alarm. This isn’t a memory to soften — it’s a truth to name. It came back today, uninvited. But this time, I didn’t freeze. I wrote. I remembered. I cut the crap. Literally.
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Dog Humor Hairy Tyrant: Her Majesty Reigns Supreme
They say dogs are loyal, loving companions. Mine is a four-legged monarch with boundary issues, a flair for dramatics, and a deeply personal vendetta against plain water. She doesn’t follow me — she supervises. Every room I enter, every snack I touch, every breath I dare to take near the fridge is met with royal scrutiny. This isn’t pet parenting. It’s emotional servitude wrapped in fur and attitude.
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Grey Hour Poem – Stillness, Dusk, and the Ache Before Sadness
Not quite sadness—just the ache that comes before it. The hour of still things.
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Unseen: The Story of the Favourite Child
She gave him tea. She never asked if I had slept that decade without nightmares. If I had ever flinched around warmth. My silence bought their comfort. And when I finally screamed — they called it betrayal.
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Love Beyond Blood: Salt in the Wound 💔
What do you become when even love is reserved for the biological?
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Anger and Immobility: The Stench of What No One Wants to Hear
There’s a strange violence in being forced to stay still when your mind is running marathons. I write this from a place of deep frustration — the kind that simmers under skin and bone, flaring into anger not because I’m bitter, but because I’m tired. Of being stuck. Of having to justify pain. Of the quiet pressure to package rage in politeness. Today, I let it spill — unfiltered, unapologetic.
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Rx Roulette: Chronic Illness Prescription Errors That Keep on Giving
Four boxes of prescription drugs and three years of playing unpaid lab rat. I’ve mastered the art of being ill — they’ve perfected the fart of faulting at convenience. Every purge feels like an end-of-season sale, except nothing’s on discount and I’m the only one paying.
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A Kindness Story in Delhi That Redefined Hospitality
There I was — quarter leg, full doubt, and no plan. I had to make a call. A real phone call. The kind I avoid like fresh fruit in airline meals. And on the other end of that hesitant, tongue-tied dial was a woman I’d never met — who, without flinching, opened her home and her heart to me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
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Waking Up with Anxiety and Trauma: The Quiet Horror We Still Don’t Talk About
Waking up with anxiety and trauma triggers isn’t rare. This piece explores how silence, shame, and survival shape our mornings.
