Life will hurl its punches, people will betray, places will suffocate, situations will try to bury me alive. But I was never born to kneel in comfort or cry in weakness. I was born to rise, to fight, to conquer. Their chaos has no chains for me, their poison has no claim on me.
I am not ordinary. I am fire wrapped in kindness, steel forged in storms. The past will never dictate my future, because it is powerless.
I am the POWER.
I am the STORM.
And I will WIN, again and again, until VICTORY ITSELF BOWS BEFORE ME!

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How it be feeling when he starts babying you again after a gandi wali fight

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"Ideal marriage"
[Full piece in Caption]

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"The burden of being human"
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وَلَقَدْ خَلَقْنَا ٱلْإِنسَٰنَ وَنَعْلَمُ مَا تُوَسْوِسُ بِهِۦ نَفْسُهُۥۖ وَنَحْنُ أَقْرَبُ إِلَيْهِ مِنْ حَبْلِ ٱلْوَرِيدِ
(قٓ: ١٦)
Some people spend their lives understanding everyone, yet remain the ones no one truly understands. Over time, they bury their storms in silence, close their hearts, and make solitude their closest companion.
Life never lets such souls rest even with their own worries, how paradoxical that they understand so deeply, yet are never understood.
They survive on the fragile hope of being seen, but the truth is, those who truly understand them are non-existent. And perhaps their only true refuge was always with God.

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"Emotional intelligence"
A blessing and a curse.
A curse, because it never allows you to hate; instead, you begin to justify why someone did what they did to you. Even if you feel that, had they not inflicted that wound, you would have lived more peacefully, breathed more fully, or found happiness with greater ease, you still end up forgiving. You tell yourself they must have had a reason, and your instinct to be good makes you even pray well for them.
Yet, it is also a blessing because those you love are gifted the gentlest version of you. They never suffer misunderstandings, negligence, or shallow care; they receive your fullest attention, unwavering love, and silent understanding of their silence. Their efforts are deeply recognized, their needs are tended to, and their unspoken cries never go unheard.
But hidden within this gift lies a torment: the anxious knowing. You sense when envy lingers in a glance, when intentions are quietly plotting against you, when love is fading, even when cloaked in negligence. Your mind records it all before it is spoken.
So perhaps, in its totality, emotional intelligence is both; a sacred blessing and a silent curse.

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POV: How that lad be coming out of the viva cabin after saying “inflammation of vulva” to "what's uvulitis?"

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POV: My ovulation phase blaming my luteal phase for giving my rasgulla a hard time

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ایمان اور آزادی
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"A Burden’s Last Prayer"

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