one step at a time
I honestly don’t know what the fuck is up.
I keep putting myself out there — and now I have a stomach ache that just won’t pass.
I kinda know what might fix it.
But I’m not doing anything about it.
And that’s the part that hurts the most.
Knowing is one thing.
Implementing is another beast.
I have the answers. I just haven’t lived them yet.
I keep posting my deepest, darkest thoughts here.
Sometimes I wonder who is reading them.
Sometimes I don’t care.
Maybe all I want is to be a fan of my own work.
To create things I actually like.
To live till I die.
And since I have to die anyway —
What’s the point of not living?
Thailand?
Could be wild.
But what happens after the trip ends?
Bali?
Maybe peaceful.
But what then?
All these ideas sound fun, sure.
But they’re temporary highs.
Not the kind of happiness that roots itself deep.
Maybe what I want is to *create* something I love.
To wake up excited for the day.
To make things that make me feel alive.
Wake up early.
While the wind is still cool.
When the birds are just stretching their wings.
Sit in stillness.
Breathe.
Meditate without rushing.
Then eat something that feels kind to my stomach.
Have a cat. A healthy one.
Maybe a person around — someone peaceful.
Maybe just a friend.
Maybe just me.
Maybe just space.
And maybe one day, a house with nature around.
Peace in the walls.
Quiet mornings.
Maybe Bombay again after 3–4 years.
Till then — anywhere I can breathe and work and just *be*.
Is that the dream?
Being close to nature,
sometimes working on my laptop,
not getting too sophisticated —
but feeling like myself?
I don’t know.
Maybe.
Maybe I’ll just keep doing what feels right.
And somewhere along the way,
I’ll find out.
I love music.
Singing.
Dancing.
Writing.
Painting.
Walking.
Eating well.
Reflecting.
Meditating.
Being with myself.
Living in peace.
That’s what feels real.
That’s what feels like love.
Maybe I don’t have it all figured out.
But maybe I don’t need to.
I don’t have to run to find peace —
I just have to return to myself.
Bit by bit.
Breath by breath.
Choice by choice.
And if I keep choosing what feels true —
Maybe the life I’m craving will quietly unfold.
Not all at once.
But gently.
In its own time.
And when it does —
I’ll be ready.
Because I never stopped trying to live.
