Thoughts

I finally understand why God didn’t let him and me work out. Not only were we two twenty-somethings who had never had a real relationship or known what it truly meant to love and be loved, but we also just didn’t match. There was no true compatibility. Yeah, we liked each other and had strong feelings, even love, but that’s not what it takes to sustain a relationship. Our key foundation was missing: understanding. I felt misunderstood, even when it came to the simplest things

After such a rough and challenging 2024, I knew I needed to let God and Jesus know how grateful I was for getting me through that season. And I thought, what better way to show thankfulness than to participate in Lent? I had never truly practiced Lent before. I tried once in 2024 but didn't make it past the first few days. However, I was so thankful for God's protection and healing that I felt I had  to follow through this time. Some of my family members observed Lent, but th

I packed up my belongings and moved to the big city, The Big Apple, as they call it. No clear plans, no real guidance, just hopes and dreams. My family is over a thousand miles away, scattered across the globe. Now that I’m here, I find myself at a crossroads. I’m finally in the city I dreamed of my whole life, But I’m by myself. No friends yet. Love life is on the brink of shambles. I don’t have my family to run to anymore. It’s just me, and the quiet of the apartment. The o

I remember all the other times I wrote about being "lost," But then I was wishing to be found. This time, that’s not the case. Now, I don't even recognize myself anymore. My dreams, my aspirations Even the simplest joys that once gave me happiness They’ve all faded. When did I stop doing the things I loved? When did fear creep in and take over? I don't recognize myself anymore. I miss the old me. She was fearless, bold, and courageous. She believed she could conquer the world

Growing up, I wrote all the time, whether it was movie scripts, poetry, or keeping a daily journal. I always had my composition notebook, jotting down whatever came to my mind. I loved writing. It was my world, an escape, and a way of making sense of the large emotions I had. But all of that changed when I was still a child. On two separate occasions, my cousins and my uncle read my journal. They caught glimpses of the thoughts I had poured out so privately, and I hated it. I

Everything is so much better when your eyes are shut.

Why is it that when it’s finally time to write, my mind goes completely blank? I always seem to have the best ideas when I’m nowhere near...