A subjective philosophy of a self-proclaimed oracle of Palo Alto
Most people don’t know what happiness is. Not for lack of trying. They chase it, quote it, manifest it, buy books about it. But you cannot achieve what you refuse to define. You cannot measure progress toward a horizon you’ve
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It’s curious, isn’t it? How much time we spend looking at our own reflections on screens, and yet how little we truly see ourselves. We have access to more information about ourselves than ever before, but our ability to understand
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Wishing someone the best is often a reflex. An easy ending. A polite bow. But sometimes, the truest thing you can say is nothing at all. Not because you’re bitter. Not because you haven’t healed. But because you’re done giving
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When I was six, I had an imaginary friend named Flora. She wasn’t like the other kids’ imaginary friends—no silly animal hybrids or invisible pals who liked to fly. Flora was nine years old and carried the solemn wisdom of
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People talk about forgiveness like it’s the end of something. A final note. A clean cut. But most of the time, it’s a placeholder. A decision we make when we know we’re not getting the thing we actually want: an
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Friendship, for me, has never been about volume. It’s about density. It’s about the people who can hold your silences without asking if something is wrong. The ones who don’t need constant proof that you still care. The ones who
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There’s a version of healing that looks suspiciously like self-erasure. Not growth. Not integration. Just a slow sanding down of everything that once made you vivid. Sharp edges, moods, protective instincts, inconvenient intensity. Gone. In their place: a gentle smile,
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Do you like horror stories? Here is one. I’ve always believed the greatest enemy one can face is not some external force, but the reflection in the mirror, the relentless inner voice that whispers, cajoles, and ultimately commands. This voice
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Time has never felt linear to me. I don’t mark it by birthdays or calendars or the ever-mounting list of holidays we’re expected to care about. I measure it in ruptures. In before and afters. In sharp turns, silences, and
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She sat in the car for fifteen minutes after the fight, staring at the garage door. Inside, he was pacing. He didn’t know what to say. He never did. They weren’t cruel to each other. They didn’t scream or throw
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I was enjoying lunch with a friend when she suddenly clutched my hand and said, “I’m so glad you’re okay. Now, we can go back to normal.” Fighting cancer is a journey many traverse, each with a story etched in
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I am an orphan. My parents would disagree, but I have always considered myself one. I was a child prodigy who woke up to the harsh realities of life far too soon. As early as three years old, I realized
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“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Whether you’re a Christian, Buddhist, or Atheist, most of us have encountered this enduring psalm by David. It’s a masterpiece of guidance, trust, and inner peace. But as we delve into
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I just dyed my hair blonde. As I gaze into the mirror, the reflection staring back at me is not merely a new hair color but a tangible testament to the profound transformation. Surviving cancer has propelled me into a realm of self-discovery and a pressing need for change, like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as a vibrant butterfly. Yet, despite the victory over the formidable adversary, an enigmatic haze clouds the feeling of triumph, leaving me wondering, “Did I really win?”
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I hate social media. Individuals who have experienced 15 seconds of fame at an early age tend to develop a disdain for anything related to “media.” It’s traumatizing for kids (and adults) when it feels as though every action, word,
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