In my old dialect, the word “No” never stood alone. It always arrived with a thousand-word apology attached to it, like a nervous traveler carrying far too much luggage. I used to feel like I had to justify my boundaries with a mountain of evidence. I believed that my time and energy weren’t actually mine […]
I’ve started a new kind of fast. It’s not about food, and it’s not about social media. I’m giving up a single, four-letter word that has become the default setting of my life, the grease on the wheels of my social interactions, and—lately—the greatest barrier to my own peace. I’m giving up the word “fine.”
I’ve realized lately that my closet was functioning as a museum of expectations rather than a place of creativity and peace. But interestingly, it wasn’t just the past that was haunting me; it was the future. I caught myself staring at a row of ‘someday’ clothes — sundresses that felt like they belonged to a
I spent months in Europe. I walked through the streets of France, explored Germany, and sat by the canals in Holland. If you followed me at the time, you saw what I saw: beautiful architecture, interesting items, and even a photo of how Coke cans look different over there. You saw the buildings. You saw
