Category: Uncategorized

So, I do still really think I’m pretty, beautiful even. Especially on those days where my skin just glows right effortlessly and my hair just falls into place perfectly. There are days where I feel like a cretin though, don’t get me wrong. And days where I feel average.

While I was in the middle of my weight loss last year (so still feeling insecure in my body), I went to the grocery store to pick up some things my sister requested on a Saturday evening. It was pretty dead. I was choosing a chili sauce in the condiments section, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy in a vest walking towards me. At first, I assume it’s a store employee but I finally look at him and see he’s just a patron.

He’s holding a salad and a bottle of POM juice and says “excuse me, this might sound weird but” and I think he’s gonna ask my opinion on POM juice. I was ready to give my unfiltered thoughts on how gross I think POM tastes, by the way. But he continues on to say “I just wanted to say, you have a really unique style and I wanted to compliment you on it.” I really wasn’t expecting it so I just say “thank you” and look at him. He looks like he wants to say something else but just quickly replies “you’re welcome” and disappears. It only hits me in the tortilla aisle, that he probably was trying to get my number or ask me out… welcome to my 30s I guess? Where people hit on you at the grocery store of all places.

Anyways, it did brighten my day during a time when I was feeling a bit melancholy, I’m not sure why though. I do think my personal style is a lot nicer than most people’s around here. I was in my grey lounge maxi dress and grey cropped quarter zip and grey metallic sandals. So yeah, I did look pretty cute and put together in my pajamas.

Another incident that occurred months after that, that I found to be genuinely adorable wasn’t when a guy tried flirting with me but just the way he looked at me. I went in to my primary care clinic to get my first dose of the shingles vaccine and one of the receptionists was this guy I’d seen there before. I don’t think he recognized me from months ago but when he saw me when I walked up to the desk, he genuinely blushed and had a look in his eyes like he couldn’t believe how pretty I was. Something about how wholesome it was just melted me. And I think I’m definitely going to remember and hold that moment close to me as compared to that other compliment.

Dear future husband, I hope you look at me with that same unguarded look in your eyes.

P.S. I’m not delusional in where I think I’m the prettiest girl alive or anything like that.

I’m almost 30, so why don’t I feel like an adult?

Why do I still feel like an insecure teenager?

In my mind, I’m still in my early 20s shortly after graduating…

No wonder it’s so hard to look in the mirror and see another line etched near my eyes…

Physically, I do feel older and more tired so what’s the mental disconnect between not being able to accept my face aging?

I mean I see it when I look in mirrors or at photos, but when I’m out and about, I think everyone still views me as that early 20s girl.

Society really has done us a disservice here. Yes, I’m choosing to just blame society and move on.

So I’m making a bunch of posts all at once. I have a tendency to get excited and fixated on something when it’s new and then get distracted or bored or overwhelmed from it. I’m getting out as much as I can as fast as I can right now but I hope I still continue to write here on a regular basis.

This is almost like my public diary for the few random strangers who stumble upon it or the few limited people I tell about it.

Maybe I’ll keep a dream journal here too on the occasions I remember my dreams long enough to sign onto my laptop and publish here.

In my mind and imagination, I’m super eloquent and poised with my words. In reality, I’m just splattering them out here. When I speak out loud, I’m at a loss for my words though… I have to churn them over and over in my head. Probably just the stress from the past several years.

i’m hoping that over time, if I keep writing here, I can find that inner voice, the elegant poised one.

So I think almost everyone on the planet has been to therapy at some point in their lives except for me.

I really do need it. I think I’m aware of all the things wrong with me and I’ve made so much progress in the last 2 years without professional help… but life really enjoys throwing curve balls at me.

My mom’s early onset Alzheimer’s diagnosis and her noticeable memory decline. I need someone to teach me how to cope with it and how to deal with it so I can be present with her while she still remembers me. I’m being so selfish and hiding from her, being detached when she’s around and then feeling guilty when she’s not near me and I miss her. I’m being so lazy about it all but I need to hurry… Time is running away from both of us.

First, to my future husband if you’re reading this (if I’m lucky enough to be married)… please don’t take this poem personally and please don’t be hurt by it. It’s about someone that probably means nothing to me at this point (although he was a very nice and good person) but that caused great anxiety in me for a few weeks in early February 2026 (mostly my fault for getting attached too easily). I never did meet him in person but I had to write this poem to get over him. Future husband, please remember that you’re the one I love, you’re the one I chose. You chose me too. What greater love story could there be than two people who found and chose each other out of billions? Can you tell I’m an over-thinker? Of course you probably already know that. I wonder if you’re an over-thinker too; if you are, then it’s a good thing I wrote this “aforemention” so to speak.

I didn’t sleep the night before what I knew would be our final call.

By the morning, I had built up my walls.

After we ended things, I felt a sense of peace in knowing I had finally protected myself for once.

Then the next day, when I was talking to another, I felt hollow again. I knew in that moment, it would never be the same for me.

Where was the warmth, the emotional depth, the way your eyes smiled at me?

You had said “when you have a relationship with someone, no matter how brief or long, it takes away a part of your soul.”

I gave a piece of mine to you willingly, not knowing it would walk away from me so soon.

Every time I read a poem, I see your face. Every time I hear a song, I imagine what it would be like for you to hold me.

If you ever change your mind, please come back and find me…

I’m curled up in my bed hiding under the blankies with my laptop on my belly… doing a cross between touchtyping and pecking but I don’t care. My hands don’t work the way they used to but at least I’m building something for the first time in a long time, not just scrolling on my phone.

I have an Instagram folder called Poetry where I save poetry or poetry-esque posts that speak to me. Some of them I like publicly before saving them… others I just click save like coward without liking them, afraid that someone I know might notice… although most of the time I don’t think they notice. I feel like if they do notice, they like to pretend they don’t notice and silently move on. In parallel to my own behavior I guess.

Anyways, I’m hoping I finally start writing again instead of just reading and saving other people’s work. I did write a free verse poem about someone else earlier this week or maybe it was last week. Maybe I’ll publish it in another post right now or maybe I’ll just save it as a draft.

“Sab ko miljagi manzal, yeh zaroori tho nahi

Zindagi rahay-safaar hai, yuoo-hi chaltay rehna

Tum charagon ki thara rahaon may jaltay rehna

Her andarayon ko ujalon mein badle the rehna”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It roughly translates to:

“Not everyone is meant to reach the final destination – and it isn’t necessary.

Life is simply a journey; just keep moving forward.

Like a lamp among other lamps, keep yourself burning bright.

Keep turning every darkness into light”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think she meant well… she wrote it for me after my first neurology appointment sometime last year.

I read it again for the first time earlier this week, had chatgpt translate it to English for me, and cried myself to sleep.

Today is February 14, 2026 and I’m trying something new…