I write what I have lived.
I write what I have wished.

Reading and writing are counterparts.

Reading is breathing in, writing is breathing out.

We just become everything we love.

The world was never meant to be a competition of appearances. It was meant to be a gallery of individuality, where every person adds their own colour, texture, and story.

Any money you spend on eating well, dressing well, and exploring the world is never a waste.

That’s living, not spending.

And yet so much is happening.

Stillness is happening.

***

I want to do this.

That is the thing, supposed to happen in this moment.

The distance between where you want to be and where you are is false.

The age of influence is over.

The age of the intellectual, with 24th year of experience, sharing online for the first time, is about to begin.

Human behaviour is wired to run away from negative things first, not towards positive things.

And yet—

What is it that we are running toward?

***

Then everything becomes uncertain.

Unbearable ordinariness.

Everything is a sign if you are crazy.

You don’t know anymore whether what is happening is coincidence, destiny, madness, or simply life.

And still—

You want something.

***

To chase away the darkness, you will have to become the light.

Kindness isn’t a strategy but a way of life, not a brand.

The brain is the enemy of art.

A fit person is not necessarily a well person.

You begin to understand that the work isn’t to control everything.

The work is to become the person capable of moving through it.

***

What is meant for you will not miss you.

Star belongs to everyone, yet every village tells a different story beneath it.

You begin to see that your life does not have to resemble someone else’s life to be valuable.

You don’t have to become an image.

You have to become yourself.

And perhaps that is what you were looking for all along.

***

The price is uncertainty.

The price is not knowing what comes next.

The price is letting go of the need to be understood.

The price is discovering that influence, appearance, status and recognition cannot tell you who you are.

The price is accepting the unbearable ordinariness.

The price is staying when there is nothing spectacular happening.

The price is stillness.

You begin to understand that not every sign needs to be followed.

Not every desire needs to become a destination.

Not every moment needs to become something.

***

So you return.

You eat well.

You dress well.

You explore the world.

You read.

You write.

You make art.

You become close to the people you love.

You live.

Not because you have figured everything out.

But because you no longer need to.

Stillness is happening.

Life is happening.

This moment is happening.

***

You finally understand:

You were never trying to arrive somewhere else.

You were trying to become the person who could be here.

And the distance between where you wanted to be and where you were —

was false.