It wasn’t because my heart stopped caring. It was because it got tired of holding on to something that wasn’t mutual. There’s a quiet kind of exhaustion that comes from loving deeply where you’re only tolerated, not chosen. I stayed longer than I should have, hoping effort could replace reciprocity. It can’t.

Letting go wasn’t easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing I’ve done — not because I stopped feeling, but because every part of me still wanted to choose you. I just knew I couldn’t keep choosing someone who wasn’t choosing me back.

And somewhere along the way, I realized this wasn’t just about romantic love.

It’s about friendships where you keep showing up but feel unseen.
Family bonds where expectations weigh heavier than understanding.
Situations where you constantly place others on a pedestal while shrinking yourself to fit.

We’re often taught that staying, adjusting, and enduring is a sign of love. But no one really talks about the quiet cost of that endurance — the way you slowly lose pieces of yourself trying to keep the peace.

Choosing myself didn’t come from anger or bitterness. It came from clarity. From understanding that love — of any kind — cannot thrive where it isn’t welcomed. That care without consideration becomes self-neglect.

You still cross my mind sometimes. Not in a way that hurts anymore, but in a way that reminds me of how much love I was capable of giving. And I don’t regret that. Loving deeply was never the mistake. Staying where that love had nowhere to go was.

You’ll always have a place in my heart — but not at the expense of my self-worth.

It took strength to walk away. Strength to accept that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting; it means understanding. Understanding that some connections are lessons, not lifetimes.

I’ve accepted that we weren’t meant to be. And I trust that the love I carry will someday find its way to someone — somewhere — where it’s valued just as much as it’s given.

Choosing myself may have caused pain — to you, to others, maybe even to versions of myself that were afraid of letting go.
But that pain is temporary — losing yourself can last far longer.

So I move forward holding on to the lessons, not the pain.
Choosing myself — not just in love, but in life.

See, here’s the thing about building something of your own:
You wake up every day with a clear goal — the brand you want to build, the lives you want to impact, the vision that keeps you going.
But the path?
Oh, that thing is blurrier than my eyesight without glasses.

One day you’re charged up, convinced this will be the breakthrough.
The next day you’re questioning if the universe even received your request — or if it’s stuck in some kind of cosmic spam folder.

I’ve learned it’s not just about business plans and pitch decks.
It’s about waking up and showing up — even when the numbers don’t add up, when the motivation is missing, and when every instinct inside you says, “Maybe take the safe route?”
But we don’t.
Because we chose the wild route.
The What If route.

And in this adventure, I’m not alone.
Every founder I meet is going through their own version of this maze:

• Leaving stable jobs to chase unstable dreams
• Pretending to be confident while googling “how to not panic in front of investors”
• Believing strongly in what nobody else can see yet

We all share this strange cocktail of fear + faith + caffeine.

I’ve been on this journey since 2021 — the day I left my job to “figure this life out.”
Three years later, I’m still figuring.
Still struggling.
Still learning.
Still failing.
Still trying again.

Some days, startup life feels like climbing a mountain barefoot.
Other days, it feels like flying.

And on the days when the doubts get loud, I remind myself:
This is the price you pay for building something that doesn’t exist yet.

Is it worth it?
100%.
Even when it makes no sense.
Especially when it makes no sense.

So if you’re reading this and your journey feels like chaos wrapped in uncertainty, just know — 
You’re not falling behind.
You’re just still in the middle of becoming.

And maybe… that’s the best part.

Here I am, still struggling, still writing, still dreaming — 
still betting on myself.

Because in the end, the risk is part of the reward.

The play felt almost dreamlike. The sets were simple but full of imagination, the lighting shifted the mood beautifully, and the performances were moving in a way that made the characters feel alive. The rose wasn’t just a flower — it felt like a symbol of fragility and care. The fox wasn’t just an animal — it became the gentle voice of patience and love. And the Little Prince himself carried that innocence and wisdom that made the whole audience quiet down and really listen.

What surprised me was how much the story made me reflect. It wasn’t just a play — it felt like it was asking questions about love, friendship, loss, and what really matters as we grow up. The kind of questions you don’t always stop to think about in the middle of busy life.

A small backstory — my cousins and I have a pact where we do something new every month, just to break the routine and create shared memories. This play was one of those activities, and it’s stayed with me as one of the most meaningful ones we’ve done. Though it’s been months since our last pact activity (work has gotten the better of us!), I still think back to this experience often.

If you ever get a chance, go watch The Little Prince on stage. And if not, I’d say pick up the book — it’s next on my own list after being so moved by the play. Huge respect to the artists who brought it to life; it was tender, thought-provoking, and left me with more than just an evening of theatre — it left me with perspective.

I never really understood what a writer’s block was. Though I’ve had experiences worth sharing, I never know whether they’re good enough, or how to even start writing them. So I end up not writing at all. And now I get it — what it feels like when a content writer at work says, “Today is not the day for creativity.”

The truth is, they still keep trying. But it often turns into half-baked lines, nonsense scribbles, and a wasted day.

Last month, when my content person said she couldn’t come up with a quirky tagline for a new brand, strangely the words just slipped out of me: “Okay, then what are you feeling today?” She said: “Crappy.”

So I told her, “Fine, come up with crappy taglines.”

And that’s exactly what she did. We didn’t get the tagline that day, but we had fun, laughed at ridiculous ideas, and weirdly enough — it felt productive. By the next day, with a little mix-and-match, the right tagline clicked.

And then, there’s me. For weeks I’ve been trying to write something on Medium. Every time I start, I end up with drafts that feel like nonsense. Delete. Repeat. Draft. Delete again. Honestly, it’s been frustrating.

But here’s the thing: sometimes the way out of a block isn’t brilliance — it’s just movement. Even if that movement is crappy drafts, silly taglines, or words you’re sure will never see daylight. At least you’re moving. And eventually, the block breaks.

So yeah, consider this proof — I’m still BLOCKED. But at least it produced a blog. Now the ball’s in your court, dear writers: help unblock me, please. 🙈

Loss isn’t always about death. It’s about absence. About a space that once held someone or something, now echoing with silence.

Some losses come with warnings. Some hit like a tidal wave. Some are unfair, some inevitable. But all of them carve a space inside you that no one else can see.

The Story That Broke Me Today

This morning, while driving with my watchman for grocery shopping he shared something that made the world slow down. He told me about his older son. A bright student. A boy who didn’t have much but had promise. One who could have rewritten the family’s story.

But bad company has a way of cutting even the tallest dreams short. His friends started drinking, and one night, they took it too far. Drunk and reckless, they ganged up on him, beat him to death, and left his body in a forest.

Just saying that out loud makes my chest tighten. He told me all this without drama. Without tears. Just quiet, steady pain.

They filed an FIR, but without the money to “push” the system, nothing came of it. Till date he doesn’t know who actually killed his son and most importantly WHY.

Justice stayed just out of reach. And he stayed silent. Because in his world, yelling doesn’t work. In fact, he doesn’t even know how to yell. Always smiling, always soft-spoken. And yet, carrying a loss that would break most of us.

It made me wonder: why do some people get tested so deeply?

It brought back not so fond memories something that still has a void in my life. One such example that I am comfortable sharing with you’ll is below.

Ten years ago, I lost a friend in a bike accident. He was just 21. Young, wild, stubborn. We had a fight the week before, and I thought we’d sort it out that weekend. But that weekend never came.

Instead, I stood at his funeral, trying to make peace with a conversation that would never happen. I found myself talking to him silently, apologizing in my head, promising him I didn’t mean the things I said.

To this day, I keep a few rose petals from his funeral. I don’t know why I never threw them away. Maybe they remind me of what unresolved goodbyes feel like. Since that day, I have a self-pack that states “Don’t leave a fight unsolved keep trying until you realize there is no one on the other side listening.”

The News That Shook Me Today

Today, I heard something that gave me an eerie feeling in my chest — an Air India flight had crashed, and most on board had died. Without even processing the full story, my first instinct was to call my little sister — she works for Air India.

She picked up, she was groggy — still sleeping — and I quickly hung up, and then I remembered: she had an early morning flight today. That moment of not knowing? Was Terrifying.

Later, we spoke properly, and I found out she knew some of the people on that flight. That shook me again. The randomness of life. The closeness of loss. The reality that, in a split second, everything can change — not just for you, but for the people you love and the world around them.

It’s a kind of fear and sadness that lingers long after the headlines fade.

That split-second panic, when your heart forgets how to beat until you hear a voice you love — that moment alone can make your knees weak. And then comes the guilt, the “what ifs,” the helplessness. We’re all just a phone call away from our entire world changing.

Types of Loss We Never Talk About Enough

· The Loss of People: Obvious, yes. But not just death. Sometimes, people walk away, change, or become strangers you no longer recognize. That’s a death of its own kind.

· The Loss of Potential: Like my watchman’s son. A whole life, interrupted. Dreams that were never given a chance.

· The Loss of Safety: After a betrayal, a breakup, an assault. When the world doesn’t feel like home anymore.

· The Loss of Time: Years spent waiting, regretting, or holding onto the wrong things or people.

· The Loss of Words Left Unsaid: The apology you owed. The love you didn’t admit. The truth you buried. Silence can be one of the heaviest losses of all.

Grief Looks Different on Everyone

Some cry. Some create. Some grow quiet. Some get angry. Some carry on like nothing happened.

But grief doesn’t disappear. It just finds new pockets to live in. Sometimes, it visits you when you’re brushing your teeth or folding laundry. It creeps in when a song plays or when you pass a street that used to matter.

There is no right way to mourn. No timeline. No closure that comes tied in a bow.

What Loss Taught Me

· That presence is a privilege.

· That anger doesn’t undo what was lost.

· That time doesn’t heal everything — sometimes it just teaches you how to carry the weight better.

· That forgiveness is more for you than for them.

· That the smallest memories can hold the loudest echoes.

Unsaid Goodbyes and Silent Echoes was originally published in Readers Club on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Case for Clear Communication

Most of us grow up learning that speaking up too much is “too much.” We worry that expressing our needs will make us seem needy, that giving feedback will make us sound rude, or that saying what we feel might make us vulnerable. So we keep it all in — half-communicated thoughts, silent resentment, and suppressed discomfort.

But here’s the thing: people are not mind readers. They cannot act on what they don’t know.

Whether it’s in a relationship, a work environment, or a friendship — clarity saves confusion. You might think you’re being obvious with your silences or mood changes, but unless you voice what you’re experiencing, the other person is left to fill in the blanks. And often, they’ll get it wrong.

Personal Example: Misfires and Missed Chances

There was a time when I felt underappreciated in a friendship. I’d always be the one to reach out, make plans, check in. Slowly, I stopped doing those things, hoping the silence would speak for itself. It didn’t. Weeks turned into months, and the friend moved on, assuming I didn’t care. The truth? I cared too much. But because I didn’t say a word, I lost the right to complain.

I had conveyed nothing. So I couldn’t blame anyone for not responding.

Why We Don’t Speak Up

Let’s face it — it’s scary. Being honest, especially when it involves confrontation or difficult emotion, puts us in a vulnerable space. Sometimes, it’s not even about fear — it’s that we don’t know how to say it.

But here’s the kicker: silence doesn’t keep the peace, it just delays the explosion.

So what if we tried? Even if the words come out messy, even if our voice shakes — at least we’re trying. Because the longer you hold it in, the more distorted the narrative becomes, both for you and the other person.

The Flip Side: Communicating Isn’t About Blame

It’s important to note that expressing yourself isn’t about dumping emotional weight on someone else. It’s not about saying “you made me feel this way,” but rather “this is how I felt when this happened.” Subtle difference, massive impact.

When you convey with the intention to be heard — not to win — it opens up space for honest conversation, mutual understanding, and even repair.

Takeaways:

1. You have to ask for what you need.
People don’t know unless you tell them. Be specific.

2. Timing and tone matter.
What you say is only as powerful as how you say it. Communicate with kindness, not accusations.

3. It’s okay to not have the perfect words.
Start somewhere. Clarity grows with practice.

4. Silence can be a weapon or a wound.
Use your voice. It’s how you build boundaries and bridges.

5. You can’t be upset about something you never communicated.
You can feel hurt, yes — but to expect change without conversation is unfair to both you and them.

At the heart of every misunderstanding lies something unsaid. We often wait for the “right time,” the perfect words, or a safer moment to express what we truly feel — but life rarely hands us those ideal windows. And so we stay quiet, hoping our silence will somehow be interpreted as depth, or our withdrawal as maturity. But the truth is, silence can’t fix what words never tried to explain.

Learning to convey what’s on your mind isn’t just a skill — it’s a form of self-respect. It says: my thoughts deserve space, my feelings deserve expression. Because if we don’t voice what’s important to us, we risk walking through life feeling unheard, unseen, and misjudged — not because others failed us, but because we never gave them the full picture.

So the next time something doesn’t sit right, ask yourself — did I actually express it, or did I just expect them to read between the lines?

If You Can’t Convey, You Can’t Complain was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Think about the stories you tell. The ones that make your eyes light up. The ones that start with “You won’t believe what happened…” or “That one time when…” What do they all have in common? Experiences.

Life without them? Flat. Predictable. A to-do list with no plot twist.

We spend so much time chasing the perfect plan — safe choices, stable routines, calculated steps. And while there’s nothing wrong with a bit of order, too much of it turns life into a loop: same day, different outfit. You’re existing, not living.

Experiences Are Life’s Texture

It’s the solo trip that went completely off-schedule and ended up teaching you more than any classroom ever could. It’s the awkward date that turned into a funny story. The open mic you almost skipped but didn’t, and the rush you felt afterward. The night you danced barefoot under the stars. These moments stitch colour and chaos into the plain fabric of everyday life.

Experiences don’t always need to be “big.” Sometimes, it’s the quiet ones — a conversation that shifts your perspective, cooking a new recipe with your hands messy and your heart full, learning a skill that makes you feel ten again. These moments leave behind something real: memory, wisdom, change.

Risking Comfort for Meaning

Here’s the catch — experiences require participation. You can’t think your way into them. You have to say yes. Yes to the unfamiliar. Yes to looking silly. Yes to not having control over every outcome.

And yes, it’s uncomfortable. But boredom and growth rarely coexist. If you want a life that feels alive, you have to step out of the bubble wrap and into the wild. That’s where things happen.

It’s Not About Escaping, It’s About Engaging

Some people think chasing experiences means you’re running away. Truth is, you’re running into life. You’re collecting moments that remind you who you are and what matters to you.

You can scroll through life or show up for it. Watch other people live or live your own story. The difference? Experience.

One day, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it’s not just a slideshow of safe decisions and missed chances.

So ask yourself: when was the last time you did something for the first time?

Because honestly — what is life without experiences?

Boring. Predictable. And way too short for that.

What Is Life Without Experiences? Boring!! was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

History has shown us that the most successful leaders, innovators, and creatives aren’t the ones who cling to their original ideas at all costs. They are the ones who embrace new perspectives, pivot when needed, and aren’t afraid to evolve.

The Power of a Flexible Mind

In a world that changes by the second, the ability to change your mind isn’t just a skill — it’s a necessity. Consider Steve Jobs, who initially resisted the idea of third-party apps on the iPhone. Had he not changed his mind, the App Store wouldn’t exist today, and we wouldn’t have the ecosystem that has revolutionized mobile technology. Or take Albert Einstein, who adjusted his own equations when new information proved his initial calculations incorrect.

Changing your mind doesn’t mean you lack conviction. It means you’re brave enough to acknowledge new insights and smart enough to refine your stance when the situation demands it.

Why We Resist Change

If being open to change is so beneficial, why do we struggle with it?

1. Ego & Identity: We often tie our beliefs to our identity. Admitting we were wrong can feel like admitting we are flawed, rather than simply acknowledging growth.
2. Fear of Judgment: No one wants to be seen as inconsistent or indecisive, even though flexibility is actually a strength.
3. Emotional Investment: The longer we’ve believed in something, the harder it is to let go — because it means we may have wasted time, energy, or resources on the wrong path.

But here’s the truth: stubbornness doesn’t serve us. Growth does. And growth only happens when we allow ourselves to rethink, unlearn, and relearn.

My Personal Journey with This

It’s funny how I’m writing all this, and it sounds like I know it all. But in reality, I only started truly understanding this concept about two years ago. And the best part? I’m not even ashamed to admit that I still struggle with accepting when I’m wrong. But I’ll get there — step by step.

There have been times I’ve held onto ideas or opinions simply because I didn’t want to admit I had misunderstood something. I resisted feedback, dug my heels in, and convinced myself that changing my stance would make me look weak. But over time, I’ve realized that the moments when I have been willing to rethink and adjust have actually been the moments that propelled me forward.

How to Get Better at Changing Your Mind

1. Detach from your ideas. You are not your opinions. Being wrong about something doesn’t mean you’re inadequate — it means you’re evolving.
2. Ask yourself, ‘What if I’m wrong?’ This simple question can open doors to deeper understanding.
3. Surround yourself with people who challenge you. If everyone around you agrees with you all the time, you’re probably not growing.
4. Embrace the discomfort. The best learning happens in moments of discomfort. When you feel resistance to change, lean into it and ask why.
5. Celebrate when you shift. Instead of feeling embarrassed for changing your mind, recognize it as a sign of intelligence and adaptability.

Final Thoughts

We glorify certainty, but maybe we should start celebrating flexibility instead. The ability to change your mind is a superpower — a sign of intelligence, confidence, and strength. So, the next time you feel hesitant to rethink something, ask yourself: What’s more important — being ‘right’ or getting it right?

Unbounded Mind: Submission Guidelines

If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that communication is a skill — one that some people are naturally good at, while others treat it like a suspicious email in their inbox (ignore, avoid, and hope it disappears).

A Tale of Two Families

In my mom’s side of the family, communication is a sport — and everyone’s an athlete. If there’s an issue, it gets discussed. If there’s a misunderstanding, it gets clarified. If someone is angry, it gets expressed (sometimes with dramatic hand gestures and an unnecessary rise in volume). Talking things out is the default setting. Even when things get heated, the goal is clear: get it all out in the open.

Meanwhile, my dad’s side operates on a strict “less is more” policy when it comes to words. Silent treatment isn’t just a response — it’s an art form. If something is bothering them, you won’t hear about it until six months later, usually in the form of a passive-aggressive comment at a family gathering.

Example?

• Mom’s side of the family: “I didn’t like what you said yesterday, and I need to talk about it now!”
• Dad’s side of the family: Silence. Followed by a sigh. Followed by more silence. Followed by changing the Wi-Fi password just to make a point.

The Battle of SpeakingPhoto by Michael Proctor on Unsplash vs. Staying Silent

Despite growing up in two communication extremes, I’ve realized something: communication is key, but knowing when to use it is equally important.

Sure, addressing problems head-on is the best way to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings. The mind has a funny way of building stories that aren’t even real. A simple text from a friend that says, "Hey, we need to talk," can immediately spiral into:

• Did I do something wrong?
• Are they mad at me?
• Did they find out that I still haven’t watched the movie they recommended six months ago?

And then you meet them, and it turns out they just wanted to ask if you’re free for coffee.

Overthinking is a side effect of unspoken words. So yes, communication helps. But—and here’s where my dad’s genes kick in—not every battle is worth fighting.

Picking Your Battles: The Art of Selective Communication

There are times when talking things out is necessary, and there are times when silence is the best answer. Some arguments are worth having, some conflicts need resolution, and some topics… well, let’s just say some things are better left unspoken.

For example:

• Addressing a misunderstanding with a friend? Yes, talk it out.
• Explaining to your relative for the fifth time why you’re still not married? Maybe let that one slide.
• Clarifying whether someone actually forgot your birthday or was just busy? Could go either way.
• Arguing with a stranger on the internet? Absolutely not worth your time.

The Conclusion: Finding the Balance

At the end of the day, communication isn’t just about talking — it’s about connection. It’s about knowing when to speak up, when to listen, and when to let things be. While I might not always be the best at communicating (I blame genetics), I do believe in one thing: if something is truly important, say it. Life’s too short for unnecessary silence.

And if all else fails… well, there’s always the Wi-Fi password method. 😏

But here’s the thing: I have my dad’s and maternal grandfather’s genes, and helping others just comes naturally. No matter how many times I’ve been burned, I can’t seem to stop.

The Price of Kindness: Wins & Losses

One evening, I was on my way to an exciting throwball final, riding in an autorickshaw, when my driver suddenly received a call and started crying. At first, I stayed out of it, but the ride was long, and eventually, I asked what was wrong. He told me that he had fallen sick the previous month, hadn’t been able to work, and now couldn’t pay his daughter’s college fee — ₹5,000. The next day was her exam, and without payment, she wouldn’t be allowed to sit for it.

I watched him frantically call his boss, begging for an early payment. From the looks of it, I had a strong feeling that he had spent a good chunk of his money on alcohol. But I kept thinking — should his daughter suffer for his mistakes?

I had a mental battle with myself, but in the end, I made him stop at an ATM, withdrew the money, and gave it to him once we reached my destination. He was overjoyed. I went on to win my throwball match and later told my best friend about what happened. Months later, she told my brother, who was convinced I had been scammed. And trust me, I heard no end of it from both of them.

And honestly? I started to think so too.

Until, 3.5 months later, I got a call from my colony’s security guard saying, “There’s a rickshaw driver here asking for someone who sounds like you. Can you come down?” I was surprised, but when I went outside, I saw it was the same guy. He handed me an envelope with my ₹5,000 inside, thanked me, and left.

That feeling? Absolutely priceless. In that moment, I finally understood what my dad and grandfather must have felt when they helped people. Emotionally as well I’ve had some great experiences that unfortunately I can’t pin down.

The Other Side of the Coin

Financial Sting:

Years ago, at a startup I worked at, there was a colleague — a driven, hardworking girl. One day, she confided in me that she needed ₹12,000 for her father’s medical bills. I told her the amount was too big for me, and she should ask a family member instead. Days passed, and she still couldn’t arrange the money. Eventually, she pleaded again, and I caved.

I even reached out to my grandfather to see if his trust could help, but the process would take too long. So, I just gave her the money.

For a year, I never asked for it back. Until one day, I was sitting with colleagues, and someone casually mentioned that she had borrowed money from him too. Then another. And another. Out of ten people at the table, six had lent her money in the past year.

I didn’t say a word. I went straight to HR and asked about her family background. Turns out, there was no father in the picture. She was well-paid. And we six “lovely” people had been completely scammed.

It’s been five years now, and I still hold on to a tiny sliver of hope that she might return the money. But realistically, I know once you give out of goodwill, you can’t expect it back unless the other person has the same goodwill in them.

And the worst part? I didn’t learn my lesson.

Just this January, I gave ₹1,000 to someone in need, thinking it was just the cost of a dinner out — only to later find out he had borrowed over ₹25,000 from different people and then blocked all of us. Classic.

But I am learning…. Am I? I’m becoming more conscious about who genuinely needs help and who just sees generosity as an easy target. Maybe one day, I’ll master it.

Emotional Sting:

Being a Piscean, I’m big on energy vibes. I pick up on things, and sometimes, I just know when something is off.

There’s this one childhood friend of mine — someone I’ve known forever, but who has never been truthful or loyal. Over the years, he has spoken behind my back, twisted stories to make himself look better, and used my name to gain new friendships. And yet, I kept forgiving and forgetting.

I never made it a talking point, but one day, I let myself get emotionally invested and finally confronted him. He cried, promised to change, and for the first time, I thought, Wow, that actually worked.

Except… nothing changed. He is wired that way.

So, I had to create distance. Now, years later, we’re still on the same committee — just a polite hello and nothing more. No emotional involvement, no deeper connections. And honestly? It feels better.

Because kindness isn’t just about helping others — it’s also about knowing when to step away.

Takeaways & Learnings

1. Help, but don’t be blind. Generosity is beautiful, but not everyone deserves your help. Learn to differentiate between genuine need and manipulation.

2. Good energy matters. The people you keep around you influence your mindset. Know when to hold on and when to walk away.

3. Giving should come without expectation. If you help someone, do it because you want to, not because you expect them to return the favor.

4. Boundaries are essential. Emotional generosity is just as valuable as financial generosity, but giving too much of either to the wrong people will drain you.

5. Not all kindness is wasted. For every scam or betrayal, there’s that one moment — like my rickshaw driver returning my money — that makes it all worth it.

So, will I stop helping? Nope. But I’ll be wiser about where my kindness goes — and that’s a lesson worth learning.