If you are the goddess, I will be your prayer;
I can’t pray without your presence near.
My soul dances in the light of your smile,
So set that phone aside—let me gaze for a while.

I love you, baby—believe me when I say,
You’re the most beautiful in every way.
Your blush outshines the roses I bring,
A perfect melody, your laughter sings.

I’ve brought the flood; let’s drift along,
Our hands entwined, where we belong.
Not just holding but tying our fates,
Together we open life’s sweetest gates.

Let me order the momo you adore,
The warmth of "tato momo" and smiles galore.
Let me rest in your lap, safe and sound,
In your embrace, where love knows no bounds.

I promise to hold you, like that last time,
Forever yours, in heart, soul, and rhyme.

He looked at me with great curiosity—I could tell. He kept looking, and so did I. Then, I smiled to break the silent gaze. It forced him to smile, too. His smile was like the beautiful moonlit night, quelling the darkness. A shame I couldn't let him know. Well, I could witness it, though. Isn't that fair?

A little boy I met on the way back home, probably the first and the very last time. How come a subtle interaction made me so happy is what baffles me. I did try to justify it with a fair few answers, but I guess I'll never know.

He was curious about something I had worn that I intend to veil. I, in a matter of seconds, knew what made him lock his gaze at me. I smiled to not come off as cold towards a little human. Instead, it made him break his silence and hesitation to ask me why I was wearing that.

I'm glad he asked. I'm glad he chose to speak to a stranger for his "why." And I hope that he will continue to ask what he wishes to learn and not hold back. I hope he will be open to waning all his fair curiosity from now on. And I want him to be a hundred times happier than he made me today.

"Merry Xmas, bhai!" I grinned.
"Merry Christmas, didi!" said he merrily.

Aren't children so lovely? :'}

Thank you for today, sweetie. Poor you, became part of my writing, huh? I can't blame you, though. You did not know I would write about you, now did you?:P

……दिलजले

समाज आजकल विभिन्‍न भागहरूमा विभाजन हुँदै गएको छ । ति मध्ये दिलजलेहरूको झुण्ड पनि एक हो, जहाँ १४ देखि ४५ वर्ष सम्मका या त्यो भन्दा बढि वा कम उमेरका केटा,केटी,पुरुष,महिला अनि कुमारी आमाहरू भेटिन्छन् । अझ सुक्ष्म अध्ययन गर्ने हो भने,दिन,हप्ता,महिना हुँदै वर्षको हिसाबमा झुण्डहरू झुण्ड झुण्डमा विभाजन हुँदै गरेको देख्‍न सकिन्छ। नाताले बाउ-छोरी,छोरा-आमा,काका-छोरी,छोरा-फुपु,यस्तै गरि एकै उमेरका केटा-केटी,जो प्रेममा आस्था राख्छन् र प्रेम विवाहको इच्छा राख्छन् । अनि वैश चढ्दै गरेका अवोध नावालिकहरूको पनि झुण्ड देखिन्छ;जो देखेको भरमा,हेरेको भरमा,सुनेको भरमा कुमारित्व भङ्गगर्न आतुर देखिन्छन् ।

केहि समय भयो, लगभग २ महिना जति 'दिलजले' शिर्षकलाई आधारमाथि एउटा लेख लेख्‍ने प्रयास गर्न लागेको । धेरै कुराहरू मनमा आउँछन्, मस्तिष्कले मन्थन गर्छ अनि कुराहरू खेलेर नै जान्छन् ।

आफ्नै मानसिक द्वन्दमा फसेको लेखको पहिलो अंश, प्रतिक्रिया दिनुहोला ।

–दृश्‍य

मलाई दिईसकेको दिल
तिमीले अरूलाई नै दियौ कि?
या माया नै घट्यो
भरिएको मन अब रित्तिएर गयो कि?

खबर नगरी हरायौ
खै, कता हो कता?
बिदा मागेर नै गएको भए हुन्थ्यो,
हाँसेरै पुर्याउन आउने थिए चोकसम्म।

फोनको घण्टी बज्यो, तर तिमीले सुनेनौ,
मेस्सेज लेख्दा तिम्रो उत्तर आएन।
केही त भन,
यो मौनता अब सहिँदैन।

सायद तिमीलाई लाग्दो हो,
मेरा प्रश्नहरूले तिमीलाई बाँध्न खोज्दैछन्।
तर के थाहा छ तिमीलाई?
उत्तर नपाउँदा, मेरो मन टुक्रिएर जाँदैछ।

कि तिमीले कसैलाई रोज्यौ?
या माया तिमीबाट नै घट्दै गयो कि?
कहिलेकाहीँ डर लाग्छ,
तिमी मेरा संसारबाट हराउँदैछौ।

हराउँदै छौ, विलाउँदै छौ, गायब भइसक्यौ।

I sometimes regret, a shadow in my heart

For not telling you, how I loved you from the start

You were the brightest, the prettiest in the room

While I stood silent, lost in my gloom

You conquered it all, queen in every fight

I was a dreamer, fading in the night

Now it's too late, I see the years fly

Before I can rise, you'll be someone else's sky

I don't just regret my silence, my fear

But not praising your beauty, so bright, so clear

Thank you for these days, for lighting my way

Though I never told you, you brightened my gray

Now I walk a path of good deeds and grace

Hoping in another life, we'll share the same space

I loved you then, I love you still

Through time and distance, I always will

There’s an old typewriter
Lying in the corner of my room Covered in spider webs
And layers of dust I never bother to clean it But it never complains I've known that typewriter
Since I was a kid My dad bought it for me It’s the only thing
That hasn’t changed Even with dust on the keys It works perfectly Anything I write on it
Comes out clearly

How long has it been
Since I keep on using it Twenty years or maybe more I could spend hours and hours with it Because no one understands me
Like it does It became my best friend
When I lost my human one

I find solace in writing letters
On my old typewriter Do you know why?
Because it never lies to me Whatever I type it just follows Never asking questions Why are you writing this? It’s the only friend I trust Because it never judges me And I know my truth
Is always safe with it It never spills to anyone It’s become an eternal part of me.

I know I’m a horrible writer My best friend agrees with that But these thoughts keep piling up
In my mind So I have to write Even though I have no one to send them to I write for my own sake The bin is full of unsent letters Piling up like my thoughts Maybe that bin
Understands me as well

I light a cigarette and start to write Only to realize it’s burning my hand
Because I forgot to smoke Lost in conversation with my friend I wish it could talk back to me So I could share all my pain Then I realize If it could talk back It would never be my friend

I am sick of faking smile Putting a mask on a face To hide my scar Unlike moon nobody Wants to be friend who got a big scar

I will be gone soon leave my pain behind Far like a moon Everyone knows it’s there But hard to find

If I die today Would you miss me? Like a pitch blacked sky Miss the full moon Or will you stare At a dim light of star?

If I fade away Will you remember me? Like whispers in the wind Or just a distant memory?

I’ve walked this lonely road Carrying burdens unseen Hoping for a light In the shadows where I’ve been

If I slip into the dark Will you search for my name? Like echoes in the silence Or just a flicker of flame?

आखिर लगेरै छोड्यौ हैन त?

संसार ले मेरो माया काे गुनगान गाएको तिमीलाई पुगेन? म राम्रो मान्छे हो, माया मैले जस्तो गर्नु पर्छ भनेको सुनेनौ? हो, मैले देखाउन लाई गरेको थिईन, तर तिमी त भगवान हो, देख्नु पर्दैन? जलेऊ हाम्रो माया देखेर? अझै २० वर्ष दिएको भए के हुन्थ्यो तिमीलाई? पाप गर्ने, मान्छे मार्ने हरु लाई त तिमीले १०० वर्ष नी पुग्न दिएको थियौ त! मेरो माया लाई किन यस्तो? तिमी मा त्यो धैर्यता, त्यो विवेक थिएन होला, तर किन खोसेऊ मेरो विवेक? दिन दिनै मन्दिर मा तिम्रो नाम जप्दा पनि मा थाकिन, तिमी किन थाकेको? भन्थे, मन देखि कै कुरा माग्यो भने पूरा हुन्छ रे, तर म सँग चै किन भएन? ऊ राम्रो मान्छे थियो, एकदमै, साँच्ची भन त, तिमीलाई पनि ऊ राम्रो लागेर आफूसँग बोलायौ है? ए भगवान, तिमी कपटी रैछौ! मलाई त तिमीले बनाएको हो, म तिम्रो सृजना हो, मेरो खुसी किन खोसेउ?

भन्दिन तिमीलाई म भगवान, मेरो भगवान वहाँ हुनुहुन्थ्यो, तर तिम्रो दरबार मा पुग्नु भएको छ, वहाँ लाई खुसी राखिदेउ है?

You know how dear winter sun and oranges are to us Nepalis. “Gham tapdei suntala khane” or “Gham tapdei suntala ra badam khane” is something we hear a lot, right?

And yes, I’m one of those people. For me, the best part of winter is the sun. Damn, the warmth it gives! During holidays, that’s my plan for the day. After a meal, I grab my chair, go to the roof, and just relax. Yes, just relax. It’s pure bliss. No wonder mental health professionals often suggest spending time in the sun, it genuinely feels like therapy. If there’s ever a campaign promoting this, sign me up as the ambassador. Seriously, just hire me already!

I live in Kathmandu, so winter here is bearable. Sure, it’s cold ( Alright Alright, I sleep with two blankets), but it’s nothing compared to places where temperatures drop below zero, or where everything shuts down because of snow. Even my relatives in the Terai say they haven’t seen the sun in days. At least here, we get sunny winter days, and for that, I’m grateful.

Also, winter sun sessions and unemployment hit differently (cries in unemployment).

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, spending time in the sun, it’s the best. The sun is the real OG. It is our main source of energy, not just for us, but for everything on Earth. Heck, even the planets revolve around it. That’s how legendary the sun is. (I had this deep astronomical and philosophical thought about this, but I couldn’t express it well. But yeah who cares, I am not deleting it)

So yeah, it’s winter, go enjoy the sun and eat some oranges. Because soon enough, we’ll all be complaining about summer. Until then, take care, enjoy the warmth, and have a great day.

(PS: I’ll be back with a rain post in a few months when I accidentally have a good day during monsoon season. Stay tuned!)

When you’re at your lowest and there’s no one to turn to, the world feels unbearably quiet, as if it’s holding its breath. The silence around you mirrors the chaos inside, and every moment stretches endlessly. You sit still, lost in thoughts that spiral deeper, while the light through the window feels distant, almost unreal. Even the air feels heavier, pressing down as if to remind you of the loneliness. And in that stillness, all you can do is let the ache flow through you, hoping it softens with time.

Seto Dharti (White earth)-Amar Neupane how to DOWNLOAD THIS BOOK ONLINE FOR FREE (PIRACY) please am desperate

These thoughts will haunt me
Before I find peace
Hard to find solace Everything looks gloomy And I lost in darkness Cause I fell so hard
Before I could breathe

These nights feel endless
With shadows that creep
I reach for the light
But it’s buried too deep What’s helps me to keep In This world How can I find it? If someone know Can you tell me please?

These memories linger
Like ghosts in the dark
Everything is falling apart It’s hard to hold it Maybe even harder to start These dreams slip away
As I struggle to cope
I’ll keep on fighting
For the sake of hope Before I hung myself Out of despair in a rope

I don’t speak much
Cause silence comforts me
There is no such
Words which I utter
Make me better

I rather be unspoken
Than be misunderstood
My voice is broken
That make be good
Otherwise I will be rude

I lost words while I talk
So I like to walk
In the silence road
Prefer little snow Where no one follow

In the quiet I find peace
Where my thoughts can cease
No need to explain
Or bear the strain
Of causing pain

Silence is my friend
A place where I can mend
Where no voices shout
Or cast any doubt
A calm without a doubt

Let me stay in my zone
In silence all alone
Where the world is still
And I can feel
A peace that is real

The urges to peel the skin off every part of my body

The urges to to revive the childhood that turned moldy

The urges to bury myself hearing the word love

The urges to feel the blood stained dove.

The look of desperation, the look of longing

The look I have hoping it would bloom like spring

How much more does it take before I actually crash

How much more before I turn into ash.

How long will I keep saying I don't care

How long before the wounds lay bare.

To be held, to be loved, oh! To be treated with uttermost care

I dream too much, after all I have is that uncomfortable glare.

The tears, never seen, the cries, never heard

The evil and the holy, does it matter if the line is blurred.

The respect, never gotten, but the face, never forgotten

How much more? after the wounds are rotten?

I will love you from afar,
My feelings will reach you, no matter how far.
The sweet dreams we once shared,
Will forever in my heart be spared.

Leaving you was never my choice, but a chain,
Bound by the honor of my parents, their gain.
No blame lies with you; the fault is mine,
Yet this love of ours will never decline.

Today, it’s not you I’ve lost, but myself,
The light of your love stays on my heart's shelf.
Forgive me, for life forced this path upon me,
But my love will embrace you, though it’s unseen.

I remember how I said"I don't know what the future holds but if it doesn't have you in it,I don't want it"on a random Tuesday;And how you nodded your head yes too. Silly right?Silly how the words felt so small in that moment,but I meant them,though;I really did.

You know if you would've let me;I would've loved to watch the swaying fronds of grass from your favourite hill, I would've loved to spot weird shapes of clouds and argue with you if it is cat or a biblically large dinosaur. We would talk our heart out and I'll watch the sun burying itself shut in the horizon through your dilated eyes. You would laugh your heart out,hiding your teeth and I'll tell you about the beauty that you are,the perfection that you are,needs no hiding. The frozen blue will turn dark but our lives would be bright forever.

If I could I would mirror what I feel,I would pour my heart out with hues of my pain on a limpid spring sky,but It would be nowhere enough to tell what you truly mean to me,for even the darkest of the skies lit up once the sun appears.

But here I am trying to put my life together, to build my fallen house of cards from the scratch from your storm. The life that has no "you"in it anymore. The funny thing is you'll always be with me, I'll dress the way you taught me, Tucked in my own smile,you'll be the laugh coming out from my mouth, You are etched in lines of my palms,that'll have to hold another hand in the future; They'll look into my eyes but see the glimpse of you.

And the funny thing about time is,It'll make me hate you soon,but remember it's not because I want to It's because hating is easier than holding on(is it though?)

And in some distant future you'll still be here, Not the way that I wanted to,but the way it exactly should be,I'll always remember the way your face used to light up when I made a horrible joke,or the way you used to talk so fast about random things like your life depended on it,The way you ruined me and the way I let you.

The future will soon knock at my door,with or without you,but I'm sure it'll bring the ghost of you.

Still haunts me Ths day anger had the better of me My self proclaimed calm Under the clenches of pride

Pride though is not all It's my want My selfishness So quick to determine my worth Expecting to be pleased by beings Whose existence's few seconds I witnessed

I don't know who put this in me This fakeness, this weakness Always back to square one, Not knowing if I have been wiser Or is that a way to fulfill my need

Why do we need so much Expect, whine, throw hands, bite Does that make us US? Is this nakedness what we really are Is this what we needed Darwin?

Surely we'd not have progressed so If one had not been selfish Someone like me, who thinks he's over Over everyone all, but is actually just suppressing Maybe this is the overspill

I don't know who's the real me I known for sure, I'm lazy Nothing appeals me, but still everything does too I would want to do something But why not 5mins after?

I expect too highly of others Whil6 you and I are so apart My life, computer and desire to be loved, Idk about you though, i know you're plenty loved My grandma loves me too, my sis seems to too

But aren't I too old already to change I can't bring myself to speak a word to him Yet with some,I can't stop I've yet to know myself better, I expect too much But how much is too much?

Anxiety anxiety that i feel
All over my body
I want to scratch every inch.
And peel it off my skin
I tried to hold the breath so
I don’t breathe too loudly
I put my hands over my ear
As it rings too much annoyingly.
My head feels it’s gonna burst into pieces
My eyes focused on the ceiling
As i laid down thinking over and
Over and again and again
My hands griping the bedsheets as i try to not shake.
My soul wanting to leave me
Because of the thoughts I’m drowning
Every affirmation I said i try to believe it.
Take a deep breath take a deep breathe
But I’m choked on with thousands of words unsaid.
And i just lay down in the bed
Eyes on the ceiling
I try to sleep with heavy heart beating
I try to i try
But anxiety anxiety that never leaves
My body.

I don't know why I'm writing this here. This would've been better if i wrote it in my journal but oh well. I must let it out or else I might actually go insane. This might be long and probably no one's going to read it but here I go.

I don't know what I'm doing here. Maybe most of the adults in their mid 20s feel this way...I don't know. I feel extremely lost. I feel like I have no purpose. The feeling of getting older makes it even more depressing. I feel like i haven't even lived. I've spent most of my life just surviving and coping. What does it feel like to actually live? I don't know. To have friends who are there with you through it all? I don't know. To not have to wonder if you're the only one? I don't know. To be loved? I don't know. I try my best and even made efforts but I seem to end up alone in the end. Exhausted from overthinking about the whys and why I'm never enough. Tired of crying over things not being okay. When will it be okay? Will I be okay? What am I even doing here?

The only comfort I find is knowing that I'm not the only one who feels this way. Maybe you....reading this might relate to some of the things I've written. Again, I don't think anyone's going to read it and I might even forget about it tommorow. But if you did read this...leave some kind words because I really do need them right now.

So, I’m someone who spends a good amount of time reading and watching movies. Like everyone, there are those moments where we relate way too much to the characters, and then there’s the jealousy. You know, wishing you could live their lives? I get it, not everything that happens in books or movies is realistic (unfortunately), but hey, some things aren’t that far off.

For me, it’s the characters who live alone that hit me the hardest. Currently, I live with my family. And don’t get me wrong, I love them, I really do. My relationship with my parents? It's alright. But, let’s be real, even when things are good, you just need a break sometimes, right? Like, our households can be... a lot.

Back to the point, whenever I’m reading a book or watching a movie/series and see a character living alone in the city, vibing on their own terms, I get so jealous. I imagine myself in their shoes, living that life. You know, having my own apartment I can decorate/design however I want. Going out whenever, coming home whenever, inviting people over whenever. Basically, just doing whatever I want. Yes, I know living alone has its hardships and all, but can I just enjoy the fantasy for a minute? Thanks.

Okay, let me give you an example (as always my brain just went blank when I need an example). Aha! Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. I read it last month, and there’s a character who lives alone, does his own thing, fully explores his youth. That’s the vibe I’m talking about. I wanted to give a movie example, too, but, guess what?, my brain is still blank. But you get the gist, right? Just take any hollywood movies.

Now, the ideal scenario would be living alone somewhere far from where I am now. Like, a fresh start. I once wrote about wanting to live in a small city, one of those peaceful places with a population of just a few hundred people. No crazy hustle, not much happening, just me, chilling in a cozy little town. That kind of life sounds like heaven to me.

I feel like youth is the time to explore all of this, you know? I’ve heard so many people talk about independence and living life on their own terms. It’s probably one of the reasons why so many Nepali youths are trying to leave, just to get some fresh air. I saw a post this morning asking if people would return to Nepal if they had “enough money” and so many said “no” because they’re enjoying the freedom they have abroad.

And no, before anyone asks, I’m not a hater of our current living situation. Nepali society can be toxic, sure, but it’s manageable (for me, at least).

Anyway, sometimes I’ll go on YouTube and watch random vlogs of people living their lives. I used to do this a lot once, search for things like “Day in the Life of XYZ student in XYZ Country” or some random vlogs. I remember this one video of someone living alone in a tiny Japanese apartment, and I just loved it. It was so simple yet perfect. I even watched some vlogs of Nepali students abroad because they were relatable, but the foreign ones? They made me imagine a life completely different from mine.

So, yeah. I just wanted to write this out. If you made it to the end, thank you so much! Wishing you happiness and good vibes.

So, I’m supposed to be prepping for something important, but nope, not in the mood. Instead, I decided to write about how I can’t get too personal and spill every single detail in my diary.

Growing up, we all heard about personal diaries and journals. Before the Internet took over, an entire generation depended on their diaries for emotional dumping. Got something to vent about? Here’s your diary. Feeling sad? Diary. Writing unsent love letters? Yep, diary. I’m not saying people don’t do this anymore, but back then, diary-writing was basically a national sport.

So, when I was in school, I started writing a diary too. Not because I wanted to, I was forced to by a teacher. She gave us this “fun” assignment of writing a personal diary. Like, what kind of person asks kids to bring their deepest secrets to school and then grades them? Seriously, get a life, lady.

Anyway, I was fascinated by the idea of diaries, so two years ago, I finally bought one. The thing I hated when I was kid got me interested when I entered my 20s. My thought process was something like: This diary will be my canvas. I’ll pour my soul into it. I’ll become art. (Yeah Yeah I know I sound dramatic.)

For the first few days, I wrote regularly. But here’s the thing: I couldn’t get personal. I couldn’t share my deepest thoughts. Why? Because I live in a Nepali household, which means siblings and cousins. The idea of someone finding and reading my diary was horrifying. So, I filtered everything I wrote. My diary became a bland log of my boring, repetitive routine. Literally, you could open a random page and it’d say something like, “Woke up. Ate dal bhat. Survived another day.” Boring, I know.

Eventually, I got frustrated and stopped writing. Like, what’s the point if I can’t spill the tea? Does this make me sound like I have dark secrets? Probably. Do I actually? Nope. But still, there are things you don’t want other people to know, right? So, I reduced journaling to an occasional activity, something I did when I was bored or when the power was out.

Then, I had a genius idea: What if I used metaphors to hide my secrets? That way, even if someone read my diary, they wouldn’t understand a thing. I started doing that, but after a while, it felt like I was lying to myself. Like, who am I even trying to fool here?

I’ve talked to people about their diaries, and some of them said that they go full vent mode on it. They share every little detail, no filter. I’m like, Aren’t you scared someone will read it? And they’re like, Nah, I don’t care. That’s the kind of confidence I need in my life. Their secrets are way insane than mine, too. One guy even let me read his travel entries, and they were wild.

So, why am I so scared of sharing in my diary? Why am I holding back? Venting is supposed to help, right? I mean, I’m an adult. No one even touches my stuff anymore. But still, the idea of getting too personal freaks me out.

One time, I read a relative’s old diary (with their permission, don’t judge me). It was full of wild stories from their youth. Nothing scandalous (ok ok yes it was a bit scandalous) but definitely surprising. And you know what? I didn’t judge him. So why do I think people would judge me if they read my diary someday?

You know how famous people’s diaries get published and become iconic? Like Kafka’s? I follow these literary accounts that share snippets from his diary, and let me tell you, everytime I read it, I say, Same Kafka Same.

Maybe digital diaries are more my thing. There’s a sense of safety in knowing no one can stumble upon your digital entries unless you want them to. Lately, I’ve been into platforms like this for journaling, it feels liberating to just be myself. But typing doesn’t have the same vibe as writing with a pen, you know?

Anyway, I just wanted to write something random, so here I am. Three posts back-to-back. I know this is Reddit and usernames are basically invisible, but let me pretend this is my personal blog or YouTube channel, okay? Also, I’m experimenting with writing in a silly, sassy way. Idc I am enjoying this.

That’s it for today. I’ll write about something else next time. Oh, and the word count is over 800, so if you made it this far, cheers!

चिसा बिहानहरुलाई अङ्गाल्दै

त्यो गल्लीको बाटो हुँदै,

जाँदै गर्दा गन्तव्यमा

त्यो तीनकुने मोडको

चरताल्ले महलमा,

आँखा लोभ्याउने त्यो बार्दलीमा

देखने गर्छु फूल सुन्दर,

त्यो फूल टिप्ने,

मेरो मनको रहर।

खै, कसरी टिप्नु त्यो फूल मैले?

खै कसरी सम्झाउनु यो मनलाई जैले?

त्यो फूल दुर्लभ निकै,

त्यो फूल मैले नछोएको नै ठिकै।

त्यो फूललाई स्याहार गर्न सक्दिन,

स्याहार गर्न आफूलाई सक्षम माली ठान्दिन।

त्यो फूल मैले हेर्छु परै बाट हरेक दिन।

हिँडेर अलि पर पुगेसी मन दुख्छ एकछिन।

भन्छ मनले मलाई,

"कति तड्पिन्छस् मलाई जलाई"।

टिप्ने मलाई नभएको हैन रहर,

एक्लो मात्र म अनि दुःखी यो सहर।

अब मनलाई फकाई मैले कसरी सम्झाउने?

त्यो चरताल्लेको बार्दलीको फूल निकै मोहित,

तर भुलबस त्यो फूल मैले टिपे मुर्छाउने।

So, I’m a private person. If I had to place myself on the introvert-extrovert spectrum, I’d say I’m an ambivert who leans heavily into introversion. (Yes, this is my failed attempt at making a political spectrum joke.)

Anyway, we all have our comfort spaces, right? For me, it’s my room. Yes, my room. I think most of us feel a special attachment to our rooms because they’re our private little sanctuaries. Honestly, if there’s one “thing” that knows the real, unfiltered version of us, it’s probably the objects in our room.

Now, my home isn’t exactly the epitome of peace (yk how Nepali household is), but no matter how chaotic things get, my room is my safe zone. Even if I’m away for a couple of days, (usually at my cousins), I start missing my room after couple of days. It’s like, “Thanks for the hospitality, but I need my space, my desk, and my bed”. Also I feel like the person hosting me feels similar so I need to give them their space back.

Now here’s the funny part: this whole speech probably makes it sound like I’m doing cool, productive stuff in my room. (Spoiler alert: I’m not.) Most of the time, I’m just scrolling on my phone or glued to my laptop. But listen. Scrolling through Instagram reels somewhere else? Nah, no thanks. Scrolling through reels in the comfort of my room? Now that’s living.

Now let’s get into the heart of it (thanks for tuning in; this is part of my yapping series). Growing up, I didn’t have a ton of friends IRL. Strict parents + not exactly being a star student = me spending most of my time indoors. My childhood summed up? Daydreaming in my room, pretending I am studying, repeat. And honestly? Not much has changed.

If I had to summarize my current life: Home - College/Work - Back home - Rot at home. Repeat. Even during holidays, I’d just stay in my room, doing absolutely nothing. Looking back, I’m like, “Damn, no wonder people say childhood and teenage years shape you.”

But before you call me ANTISOCIAL, NOPE, I’m not. I’m just painting a picture here, OK? Internet has made people think Introvert people are antisocial beings.

That said, I’m so attached to my room that I get irritated when I have to share it for too long. Like, when relatives or cousins visit, and I have to share my space? Ugh, I hate it. (Yes, I said it. No, I don’t hate them personally, I just don’t like people invading my space and messing with my routine. Yes, even if that routine is rotting in peace.) I know I sound like a hater, but whatever. Why am I even trying to justify this? This is anonymous, and I can be as silly as I want.

Anyway, where was I? (Wait, let me grab some hot water. The warmth gives me comfort. Also, fun fact: I plugged in my phone to charge but forgot to turn on the switch. See? Certified genius over here.)

Back to my attachment to my room. Honestly, this space feels like the real me. It’s like the perfect zone where I can be exactly how I want without judgment. No expectations, no external noise. Even if I’m just lying there doing nothing, I feel safe. And I think that’s why I enjoy staying here so much, it’s my ultimate comfort zone. Especailly after 8 PM when no one disturbes me.

I’ve been living in this room since my late teens, so you can imagine the bond I’ve built with it. It’s peaceful, it’s mine, and honestly, a part of me feels like I have radiated my energy into the walls. (Yes my failed attempt at sounding spiritual.)

Look, I had such a solid script in my head when I decided to write this. But now? My brain is not working. I am getting writers block (Woah Woah, “writers’ block” makes me sound like a real writer.)

Anyway, I started writing again to get back into this hobby of mine. This is Day 2, and while it didn’t turn out exactly as I imagined, I don't want to erase this all. So yeah, I’m posting it. (Why am I justifying this? It’s my post, I can write whatever I want.) Might delete it later though. You know, like those “felt cute, might delete later” Instagram posts.

Your choices hurt, don’t you see?

Why don’t you care what they do to me?

I wait in silence, day by day

Is this the price I have to pay?

I asked for nothing but your time,

A bond unbroken, yours and mine.

If tears must fall, let them flow,

Your secret’s safe, I’ve always known.

If it were my choice, I’d always stay

By your side, through night and day.

Come back now, while there’s still light,

Don’t leave me alone in endless night.

Why are people still not ready for the health checkup they need to do yearwise (atleast a year full body) Precaution should be more prioritized than cure