Its Not Scripted

  [Scene opens in black and white. A dimly lit room. Moonlight seeps through half-closed curtains, casting long shadows across the walls. Lacrimosa plays faintly in the background, its haunting tones filling the silence. A tidy bed sits in the center. Tommy sits on its edge.] Tommy: (Softly, voice cracked) Relationships, huh? The most complicated thing I’ve ever faced. [He sits up, staring at the floor, then slowly lifts his eyes to nothing in particular. They gleam with unshed tears.] Tommy: I’ve always used logic—reason. It got me through everything else. But this? This is a whole other battlefield. Grace: What do you mean? [Tommy stands, begins pacing slowly. His silhouette moves through streaks of light and shadow.] Tommy: People just... leave. No goodbyes. No explanations. No care, no mercy. They vanish like I never mattered. Grace: That sounds rough… Tommy: It is. And the worst part? I see the signs now. I’ve been through this before. I don’t get attached easily… But when I d...

When I was around ten years old, my dad introduced me to a game played on a small board with two sets of pieces—one black, one white. These pieces formed two opposing armies, standing face-to-face on a checkered board of alternating colors. He explained the rules: each piece had its own unique way of moving, and the goal was to corner the opponent’s king, leaving it with no escape. It sounded simple enough, but I was completely puzzled. What was I supposed to do? My dad started playing anyway. We took turns moving our pieces, but I kept losing. I had no clue what I was doing or how to approach the game. Then, he promised me a reward—a decent amount of money if I managed to beat him. Suddenly, I had all the motivation I needed. So, I kept trying. I lost again and again, but with every loss, I learned something new. Soon, I was the one asking to play another round. I had to win. Over time, I started to enjoy the game, not just for the challenge, but for the process. I began to understand...

  Pinterest I used to love drawing. It was my thing, my escape from the world. I just loved art. I remember my one and only scratch vividly. It was a rainy winter, yet the air was warm and comforting. I spent countless hours by the window, completely absorbed in it. The scene depicted an ancient temple on a hill, an angelic warrior standing over a fallen one, born from my admiration of art. Those days were magical. Each line I drew felt like a connection to a deeper part of myself. Since then, I just don't know what happened to me. Life grew complicated, and my passion for drawing faded. Responsibilities took over, and my sketchbook gathered dust. Yet, the memory of that rainy winter, the warmth, and the satisfaction of creating something beautiful stayed with me. As I look at my old scratches, I feel a flicker of that old passion. I was running from my depression into things I loved, which one day was art—all kinds of art. I was hiding in it from people and depression. It was my o...

the balance between heart and mind          In the tapestry of our existence, woven by the habits we cultivate, lies a profound narrative of stories that shape our thoughts and contribute to the intricate mosaic of our minds. From the earliest moments of childhood, the habits we form become vessels carrying fascinating stories within them. These stories, deeply ingrained in our consciousness, play a pivotal role in the development of our thoughts and the intricate makeup of our minds. Countless memories, stored within the recesses of our mental landscape, exert their influence, shaping and motivating us in various ways. As we traverse the diverse paths of life over the years, these memories and stories weave together, collectively crafting the rich fabric of what we come to recognize as maturity. Join me on a reflective journey as we explore the profound interplay between habits, memories, and the evolution of our minds, paving the way for an explorati...

Two friends were engaged in their own conversation while sitting in a room with windows down, and music up. The first one asked, "Why is the music so loud tonight?" Her voice barely audible over the pulsating beats. The main character turned to her with a wry smile. "Well, you know what they say: the louder, the better. It helps keep my mind from overthinking." The friend chuckled softly. "Overthinking, huh? What's been bothering you?" The main character walked closer to the window, gazing up at the star-studded sky, his thoughts a whirlwind amidst the urban cacophony. "Life, I guess. The choices we make, the paths we take. Sometimes, it feels like my mind's trapped in an endless loop, replaying every decision, leading to untold stories." The friend nodded in understanding. "I get that. It's as if we're on a constant quest for answers, even though the questions keep changing." The music throbbed louder, momentarily drown...

Introverted individuals often find solace in their own world, a realm brimming with profound contemplations and introspection. In the realm of logical thinking, introverts wield a distinctive set of strengths and face unique challenges. One of the standout qualities of introverts lies in their innate capacity for deep analysis. They possess a remarkable ability to dissect ideas and information methodically, effortlessly connecting the dots. This aptitude equips them to craft well-considered decisions and effortlessly grasp intricate concepts. However, within this gift, a shadow lurks. Introverts occasionally grapple with the tendency to overthink. They can become entangled in a web of thoughts, endlessly scrutinizing every nuance and potential outcome. While this meticulous attention to detail proves advantageous in many scenarios, it can also culminate in what's known as analysis paralysis—a state where making decisions or taking action becomes arduous. Furthermore, overthinking c...