𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼

I used to peel my oranges until he did it for me—without being asked, without hesitation. He did it with a smile, and without expecting anything in return. His gestures weren’t glamorous, flashy, or dramatic. But they were real. He peeled oranges even when it was inconvenient for him. Sticky fingers, quiet patience, a small act of service that spoke louder than words. He stayed by my side when I was on the verge of breaking down, cheering for me to continue.  The Orange Peel Theory says that love is revealed in the little things, like peeling fruit for someone. But his patience and care go beyond the theory. It wasn’t just about the orange. It was about showing up, even when life (my life, specifically) was messy. It was about choosing tenderness over convenience, presence over absence. And maybe that’s what love really is: not the grand gestures, not the spectacle, but the everyday rituals and little things that make life softer and grand. The quiet acts that no one else sees. Th...

In 2022, I told myself that I would practice stoicism and mindfulness to counter my tendencies toward overthinking. That decision led me to start blogging: sharing my thoughts, feelings, insights on life, book and movie reviews, and more. I wanted to be intentional: to explore my inner world and write with purpose. Yet, my mindfulness journey has never been a straight line. There were times when I failed to follow my own values and principles. In those moments, I would remind myself, “That’s okay. I’m still human, with emotions. I’m bound to make mistakes and learn from them. I’ll try again tomorrow.” That has been my pattern for the past four years. I fail, I learn, I pick myself up, I continue. Over time, I’ve realized that the more you ask for peace, the more chaos seems to appear. The more you practice being stoic, the more life throws triggers your way. I'm resolved to think that it’s life’s way of teaching patience, perseverance, and radical acceptance. As someone controllin...

Lately, I’ve been itching to rebrand myself online — to take back control of how people perceive me. It’s funny how much weight we give to our digital selves, right?  Because whether we admit it or not, perception matters, especially in the digital world. A lot of young adults today barely post on Instagram or Facebook. Their feeds are curated with black-and-white photos, millennial gray aesthetics, and those effortlessly cool bios that make you think, wow, they’ve got it all figured out.  Meanwhile, I’m still stuck in my 2016–2019 Instagram era. Random posts, no theme, just vibes. At one point, my feed didn’t feel “grown up” or aligned with who I am now or who I’m becoming. That’s when the thought hit me: maybe it’s time to change my online persona into something more… sophisticated. A traveller. An artsy girl. But then again, aren’t I already that? (Kidding… sort of.) Here’s the thing: rebranding isn’t about pretending. It’s about catching up. Letting your online presence re...

In a world full of people who are quick to judge me for what they hear or see — without ever truly knowing me — I feel lucky to have my man, Patrick. He’s the one who took the time to understand me, who listens when I’m not in my zone, and who reminds me that my voice matters even when I struggle to believe it myself. Being vulnerable isn’t easy. I’m scared of judgment, of being called too expressive, too emotional, immature, or reactive. I’ve been told those things more times than I can count, and honestly, I don’t think I can take another negative review of my character. It weighs on me, and sometimes it feels like the world only sees the surface, never the soul underneath. Yesterday, I broke down crying. I realized I don’t feel my spark anymore. I don’t feel my soul inside me. The things that used to bring me joy: my hobbies, my little rituals, even the simple moments,  feel distant. Since December 2025, I’ve been living in autopilot mode, just going through the motions without ...

I  was born too late to witness the popularity of the band, The Beatles. I used to listen to my Mommy talking about them and how great they were until fame got into their heads and then they disbanded. Now, I'm not going to talk about the band's history and demise — I'm here to talk about their songs. How it calms my nerves and pause all the thoughts going in and out of my head. There’s something magical about the way their music flows; simple yet profound, playful yet deeply emotional. Songs like Let It Be and Hey Jude feel like gentle reminders to breathe, to let go, and to trust that everything will be alright. Their harmonies carry me into a space where worries fade, and I’m left with a quiet sense of peace. Listening to The Beatles isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about connection. Even though I wasn’t there during their rise, their music bridges generations. It’s as if every note carries a piece of history, yet still speaks directly to the present moment. For me, Th...