Poems

How I feel and what I need to let out by poem

poem from my thoughts

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Pain of Discipline vs. The Regret of Quitting

 Every day, I feel the exhaustion creeping in, my body aching from the constant push, the never-ending battle between wanting to give up and knowing I’ll regret it if I do—because as much as working out drains me, tests my patience, and messes with my mental health, I can’t ignore the fact that I’m seeing changes, proof that my effort isn’t wasted, that I’m slowly becoming the version of myself I’ve always wanted to be, and even though discipline is the only thing keeping me on track, it’s also the very thing that makes this whole process a pain in the ass, forcing me to push through the days I’d rather quit, because at the end of it all, what other choice do I have if I really want to grow? Short but simple post.
Read more

Death is inevitable.

This much is certain.  There is a silence beneath everything that grows,  a stillness waiting to reclaim what it once relinquished.  One lives, and in living, begins to vanish . Dying - that peculiar fear embedded in us like a splinter under the skin. We do not speak of it often, though it governs our days. It is not the event that terrifies, but the absence. To be - and then not. To exist with memory, sensation, voice  and then to be reduced to… nothing. A name, a photograph, a smell clinging to someone’s coat. It does not matter how we resist. It comes, not out of cruelty, but out of something more mechanical. Indifferent. Incomprehensible. Like a bureaucratic system that never explains itself. And what is worse we are so entangled in the minutiae of daily life that we forget: we are temporary. In the middle of conversation, in the middle of a sip of coffee, in the middle of existing  the machinery can stop. Without warning. Perhaps even now. Time does not wai...
Read more

Letting Go of My Religion: My Journey from Catholicism to Truth

Why I Stopped Following God. I was born into a Catholic family, where faith was not just a belief system but a way of life. From an early age, I was taught to pray, to attend church, to believe in God without question. It was all I knew. Sunday mornings were reserved for mass, religious holidays were celebrated with devotion, and any doubts about faith were quickly dismissed with the reminder that God had a plan. For years, I followed along, never thinking to challenge what I was told. But deep down, something always felt off. I couldn’t put it into words as a child, but there was a lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right, something that didn’t make sense to me, even when I tried my best to believe. As I grew older, I started asking questions. Why did this religion exist in the first place? Why was I supposed to follow it just because my family did? What made Christianity the "one true faith" when there were so many other religions in the world? I wanted answers, ...
Read more