MAP OF MY SOUL

I don’t think there was a single day where it all changed. no big explosion, no epiphany that made the sky split open. just this slow, sneaky calm that started crawling back in. like one morning i woke up and my chest didn’t feel like a battlefield anymore. the noise was still there, but it wasn’t in me anymore. and that’s how i knew something had moved. idk… i think i just got tired of being at war with myself. tired of trying to fix everything. so i stopped. and somehow, that’s when things started fixing themselves. now i talk easier. i laugh without checking if it sounds okay. sometimes i catch my reflection and don’t flinch. maybe that’s growth—or maybe it’s just peace in disguise. and i know it sounds dramatic but this feels like finally exhaling after holding my breath for years. like life didn’t suddenly become perfect, but it stopped hurting so much to live it. the lyric went ...  you’re the cause of my euphoria ,” i used to think they meant someone else....

I’m hitting restart. Not because I messed up, not because life shoved me down, but because I’m done waiting for some “perfect moment” that never comes.  Take two is messy, chaotic, a little wild—but it’s mine. And this time, it’s real. Heart and brain working together, refusing to shrink. Self-love isn’t just crying to a song or screaming into my pillow (though yeah, sometimes it still is). It’s moving my body when it wants to collapse, fueling myself with food that energizes instead of punishes, sleeping like I actually respect my brain, and stacking little wins that remind me: I’ve got this, one chaotic step at a time. I’m taking ownership. What do I really want, for once. Goals aren’t daydreams anymore—they’re checklists. Study, create, move, breathe, reflect, repeat. Tracking growth, celebrating progress, not perfection. The fire in me—the part that refuses to settle, refuses to shrink—is sharper now, tempered with strategy. Chaos with a blueprint. Power with direction. Take...

I want to scream. I want to run. I want to hug anyone who’ll actually hold me and not ask for my marks afterward. I was never the quiet type. I used to laugh loud. I used to drag friends to stupid cafes and dance until we were breathless and sticky with cold coffee. Now my laughter is rationed. My world is a timetable. My rebellion is a five-minute dance choreo when nobody’s looking. Home feels like an interrogation room disguised as a living space. Conversations are sharp—short—and mostly about what I haven’t done. “Why didn’t you get 95+?” “What were you doing?” “You’re acting weird.” They call me names like I’m a diagnosis. “Psychotic,” they say, like it’s a badge of shame. They call me disappointment like it’s a homework assignment I failed to submit. What did I do to deserve this? I keep asking that. Over and over. It’s meant to sound rhetorical but it’s not. I actually want an answer. Did I laugh too loud as a kid? Did I dream too big? Did I annoy them by being alive? I’m st...

  They say love is about finding someone “just like you.” Same habits, same likes, same playlists, same way of thinking. But honestly, if I wanted a copy of myself, I’d just talk to my reflection in the mirror. And trust me, I argue with myself enough already. Real connections? They’re not really about sameness. They’re about difference. About the sparks that fly when two people crash into each other with perspectives so opposite, it feels like they belong in different universes. And yet… somehow, it just works. Take us. I’m the type who spirals into ten different future scenarios before breakfast. He, on the other hand, could be sitting in the middle of a storm and still say, “It’ll pass.” My brain is a fireworks display; his is a calm night sky. I chase possibilities, he holds the ground. And that balance? That’s the magic. Our differences show up in the tiniest, stupidest things. I basically survive on coffee, while his drawers look like Willy Wonka’s backup factory—stacked wit...

It was my last day of  normal  school.  Just writing that down feels unreal. Fourteen years, four schools, a million memories. And somehow it all ends quietly — on Teachers’ Day. Poetic, isn’t it? We had our celebration, the kind that’s half program, half chaos, full of music, dance, games and awkward messy laughter and fun.  And somewhere after that chaos and energy... I wandered into an empty classroom. My classroom. For the last time, probably. I opened my books like some ritual, plugged in my earbuds (literally XD), and let my old favorite tracks play, songs which have been with me since I was a tween.  But barely ten minutes in, I found myself just... staring out the window. And  oh god , the sky. It was the prettiest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. And something about it — the stillness, the finality — made it hit me. Hard. Fourteen years. Gone. All those years of showing up in uniforms, hanging out in corridors, scribbling nonsense in notebooks, cryin...

The weather outside is criminally so damn good today—sunny, breezy, bright, happy, almost like the universe accidentally synced its playlist with mine. Istg the sky’s energy is matching mine for once: a little wild, a little bubbly, a little what even is going on but I’m vibing anyway. And maybe that’s why this whole… thing I’m in feels lighter too. You know, that grey zone between friendship and romance, where no one updates their relationship status but hearts are secretly glitching. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me catching feelings in slow motion, while the other person is out here chillin’ like nothing’s happening. It gets in my head—like, am I over-reading every smile? Every little stupid moment that feels bigger to me than it probably should? But here’s the twist: it still makes me happy. Like ridiculously happy. It’s a distraction sometimes, but a good one. The kind that doesn’t derail you, just adds a soft soundtrack to the chaos. It feels like walking in sunshine with a lit...