I have always been curious about one thing, and that is: Why is death more familiar to us than life?

I always wondered why people think death brings peace. I wondered why something so ominous is often regarded as the end of suffering. I think I know now.

Death is more familiar to us because it doesn’t demand anything. It doesn’t ask us to be something to be worthy of it. Because life asks us to be worthy, to be capable of living. No matter how much we accomplish, we’re always behind. We’re always regarded as failures in something. People are never satisfied. Even if you burn yourself to light the lives of others, they’ll complain that there’s heat. Even if you bring rain in someone’s drought days, they’ll say you drenched them. That’s how life is. That’s why peace is not found here in this world. No matter how much we run after peace, it never comes to us in our lifetimes. Even if we’re fortunate enough to have a glimpse of it, we lose it again. No matter how hard we work, we’re always lesser than someone else.

That’s why death is beautiful. It doesn’t ask you how much you’ve accomplished; it doesn’t ask you to state your worth. It doesn’t make you feel like a burden. That’s why it’s more familiar to us than life.

Because our souls are free things, free from the limitations of this world, free from the expectations that never seem fulfilled.

Death: A Paradox of Peace was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Honestly, I don’t know.

How does someone know what they really want in life?

What does it feel like?

To be sure, to be certain?
How does one know what is right for them and what is not?
How do you know when a decision is truly yours and not something you have slowly convinced yourself to want because it is what everyone else expects?
I wonder about this more often than I’d like to admit.
There seems to be an invisible script for how life is supposed to go. And subconsciously we all stick with it.
Somewhere along the way, you are expected to know what you want.
But what if you don’t?
What if you are simply moving because life is moving?
What if you are making choices because they seem like the right choices, without ever stopping to ask whether they are right for you?
Sometimes I wonder if forcing yourself to do something just because that is the natural flow of life is the reason you start questioning everything in the first place.
Maybe the problem is that I have spent so much time trying to figure out what I should do and along the way I have completely forgotten to ask myself what I actually want.
And then there is this other question,

What does belonging feel like?
What do I have to do to feel like I belong somewhere?
To a place.
To a person.
To a life.
Is belonging something you find, or something you create?
And how do I know what I actually want from my life?
Not what would look good.
Not what would make other people proud.
But what would make me feel like I am actually living my own life.
How do I find happiness?

Not the ones that make me laugh/smile. but the ones that makes me live for it. The one that excites me.
I don’t know.
I really don’t know.

— I don’t know
— I don’t know
And — I actually don’t know : )

What if I don’t know what I want? was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Colloquial chaos

In this modern world, where everyone is a “gaslighting narcissist”, we often forget to look into the mirror and strip the facade of the perfect friend.

“Toxic”
“Emotional regulation”
“Emotional labour”
“Trigger”
“Boundary”

These words were designed to expose systemic and personal abuse, but instead? They’ve turned into everyday talk, where accountants to florists have turned into psychologists overnight.

The person winning the argument isn’t the one in the right anymore, it’s the one that can memorise these terms better. Label your friend as ‘toxic’, and you take away their emotional autonomy and instantly turn them into the villain. It’s an excuse to avoid reflective surfaces that expose your own guilt.

And when it comes to romantic relationships, we ostracise our beloved partners because they don’t measure up to social media’s impossibly high standards.

“If they wanted to, they would.”

Sorry but I’m not expecting a teenage boy to bring me flowers every time we meet.
I’m not expecting my boyfriend to write me 100 page love letters.

That’s not “the bare minimum.”
And if someone thinks it is, they’re the problem.

These actions show care, they show love.
But building expectations out of jealousy over someone else’s boyfriend’s actions? That’s what unhealthy looks like.

The AI Echo Chamber

Therapy is too expensive, just use AI! Right?

AI chatbots are, at their core, designed to be agreeable, empathic, non confrontational and blindly supportive in whatever you do. Videos have circulated online about how even the most negative of actions gain validation from AI simply because their user has paid for an expensive yearly subscription.

So what exactly is happening when you feed your one-sided, emotionally charged argument into the wildly unsustainable chat?

Obviously, you’re gaining sympathy regardless of your actions. These chatbots even throw around the typical therapy-words to enhance their supposed validity and prove that they’re worth something.

We are outsourcing our moral self-reflection to software programmed to tell us we are the victim. It turns healthy internal doubt into algorithmically approved righteousness.

The Commodification of Therapy

Social media is a worthy opponent to horrid AI.

Therapy influencers have started doling out free advice for followers. Sure, a few of them started out with righteous intentions to enable viewers with the ability to recognise abuse, but these days it’s turned more into conspicuously bizarre opinions and validation to up the likes and comments.

Algorithms heavily reward bite sized content, so the theories that psychologists spent years devising, the theories that take up page after page in thick books are downtrodden to miniscule one-liners.

Modern wellness culture frames cutting people off as self-care. It replaces long-term relational work with consumerized disposable relationships.

The lost art of discomfort

We’ve taken uncomfortable conversations, thrown them out the gaping window and made isolation the social currency in the name of “protecting your peace”.

About a year ago, my friend (druncat ✩ˎˊ) told me about a joke I’d made that hurt her feelings. Think about this, a 16 year old was brave enough to make me own up to my mistakes in a time where grown adults would cut each other off to avoid having an uncomfortable conversation.

To this day, I secretly laud her for the sheer courage it took to make me acknowledge my wrong, even at the potential cost of a fight.

Because connection doesn’t come from superficial niceties. It comes from uncomfortable, messy truths. And that friend and I? I tell her even the most secretive, stigmatised truths about myself because I know I can trust her, because I know that that is a true, meaningful connection we have made.

Instead of taking this angry rant to heart, perhaps take a peek at the covered mirror and realise that you’re human too, you make mistakes just like the rest of us. What would set you apart is owning up to them instead of self isolating.

Because frankly, recognising real ‘toxicity’ isn’t an easy task. But labelling every action you dislike, is. Maybe leave the psychology of relationships to the licensed ones.

This isn’t an advocacy to let horrid behaviour slide, instead it’s a call to action to finally call up that friend. Let them know they hurt you, and you need an explanation, don’t ignore them and hope the friendship just fizzles out.

You don’t deserve that and neither do they.

Social Media, Chatbots, and the Exploitation of Therapy was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Clarity is the real advantage today. Not speed.

While the rest of the world is rushing to do more, those who learn to direct their focus rise above the distractions to achieve deeper work, better decisions, and inner calm.

Most people get this completely backwards. Focus is a skill and, like any other skill, it can be developed. It starts with just 5 minutes a day.

Why You Can’t Focus (and What to Do Instead)

Your brain isn’t broken. It’s overwhelmed.

With notifications, distractions, and interruptions, we can’t avoid having distracted attention for long. We don’t need more apps. We need a mental reset.

The simplest way to do that is to implement a daily ritual.

The 5-Minute Focus Ritual

You don’t need to meditate for an hour. You need to develop the discipline of sitting still for 5 minutes. The ritual will look like this:

• Find a quiet location and sit up.
• Set the timer for five minutes.
• Choose one anchor. This can be your breath, a single sound (i.e. “clarity”), or a single word.
• When your mind wanders, gently bring your focus back to the anchor.
• Repeat this ritual daily in the same location.

After disciplining yourself to the ritual everyday, your brain will gain the capacity to better control its scatter and focus, as well as develop clarity.

Backed by Neuroscience

Studies show that short, formal mindfulness practices can improve:

• Focus and working memory
• Emotional regulation
• Speed and accuracy of decision making
• Stress and anxiety

Harvard study has shown that mindful practices have been shown to show an increase in gray matter in the prefrontal cortex, the “CEO” of the brain,

You don’t have to meditate like a monk. It’s about showing up.

Are You Serious To Build a Habit

A meditation guide, is a great supplement to help start the practice. Short, easy-to-do sessions for clarity and discipline and the focus from the very first day.

Some Final Thoughts

You can’t outwork or out hustle distraction or overwhelm.

But, you can train your brain to focus, slow down, and perform with calm precision; one minute/one step/one thing at a time.

Start with 5 minutes. Stick to the practice. Watch everything change.

Your Focus Is Being Hijacked was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

There is a type of unspoken loneliness that is difficult to describe.

It is not necessarily about being alone.

You can be in the presence of others.

You can be in the middle of a conversation.

You can be in the middle of a big event where people are gathered.

You can be in the middle of a situation that appears to be going perfectly.

You can be smiling, engaging, going through the motions of your normal routine, but as you create the appearance of being fine, deep down you are struggling with the silent question.

“Why do I feel so alone?”

This is a very real feeling among millions of people.

These people turn to the people around them to fill the void through social interaction, accomplishments, entertainment, distractions, and the like.

All remaining pointless.

This feeling of disconnection is not going to disappear until people create a deeper more meaningful relationship with self and become aware.

The answer to so many questions may simply be practicing self, self-care and self-love more.

What if loneliness is not a weakness? What if loneliness is a message? What if it a invisible language attempting to guide you back to yourself?

The Loneliness Beyond Being Alone

Many people do not understand what loneliness actually is.

People think that if you have no one around you, you are lonely.

If this were the case, then everyone that is surrounded by people would think that they are not lonely.

However, people feel lonely in workplaces, crowded rooms, relationships, and in online communities with thousands of connections.

This goes beyond the many wrong understandings of loneliness.

Loneliness is not only experienced when there is nobody around you, it can also be the result of not being connected with your inner self.

Having thousands of connections and being well known means nothing if one is not self-aware.

People can be the most talkative person and carry the most conversations, yet, they can be the most clueless when it comes to thinking.

People can look for the approval of everyone and be the most patient and nice person in the world, yet, they can be the most self-hating person in the world.

This is the part where mindfulness makes everything clear.

Mindfulness is not only about being able to close your eyes and silence your thoughts.

It is the ability to deeply know yourself and observe your thoughts and feelings without losing yourself in the process.

It is the ability to be self-aware without losing touch with reality and being aware of everything around you.

The Hidden Message Inside Loneliness

Every emotion has something to say.

Fear can show what is important.

Anger can show what needs help or attention.

Sadness can show what needs to be understood.

But what about loneliness?

Maybe loneliness is telling us where we are missing connections.

Not only with other people.

But also, with ourselves.

Many people are always trying to avoid or escape the feelings of loneliness.

They try to get rid of the silence by filling their time with distractions.

Filling their time with distractions can be a form of self-stimulation, and self-stimulation has the ability to make people face themselves.

Once a person decides they are okay to sit in silence with themselves and their thoughts, something amazing happens.

They can finally hear everything that they have been hiding beneath all the distractions.

Sometimes the silence, that we fear and try to avoid the most, is the silence that will hold the answers to the questions we have been trying to find.

When Loneliness Becomes a Teacher

I initially thought loneliness was something to conquer.

I thought happiness was either achievements, recognition, or more connections.

However, the more I tried to escape loneliness, the more dominant it became.

Eventually, I decided to observe loneliness, instead of escaping it.

I decided to replace the question,

“Why Is This Happening To Me,”

with,

“What Is This Trying To Show Me,”

and my life changed.

Now I knew that loneliness was not, in fact, out to get me.

Loneliness began revealing the parts of myself that I ignored.

It showed me that I relied more than I should on the opinions of other people.

It showed me that the most and deepest relationship that one could ever have is the relationship with one’s own self, and own awareness.

Loneliness was never the enemy.

It was, actually, an invitation.

The Difference Between Isolation and Inner Connection

Isolation and solitude are not the same, and the difference is very important to understand.

Isolation is the absence of connection to the world.

Solitude is the presence of connection to the world.

Isolation is being in prison.

Solitude is being at one with the world.

Our attention is demanded by the external world.

Messages.

Opinions.

Expectations.

Comparisons.

The constant busyness of the modern world creates connectivity that is present everywhere with the exception of connection with the self.

Because of this, most people are not comfortable with stillness.

In modern life, when we finally stop listening to the world outside, we start hearing the world inside.

But the world inside is not something to be afraid of.

It is the beginning of change.

The person who learns to sit peacefully with themselves discovers a freedom that no external circumstance can take away.

Mindfulness: Returning Home Within Yourself

Here’s one of the many powerful lessons mindfulness has to offer:

Your thoughts do not define you.

Your emotions do not define you.

What defines you is the observer of your thoughts and emotions.

Your thoughts

Your emotions

Your experiences

And everything else that exists will be observed by the presence that is within you.

When you cultivate your awareness, the perception of loneliness begins to take on a new meaning.

The perception of separation will become a means of connection.

The empty space will become the space of discovery.

The silence will be the cradle of wisdom.

This doesn’t imply that we don’t desire or need relationships anymore.

The connections we share with others are one of the most beautiful aspects of our existence.

What we learn from mindfulness is the relationships we share with others are healthier when they come from a sense of self-wholeness, as opposed to self-emptiness.

The wholeness of self eliminates the search for external sources to fill the void of self. The wholeness of self allows the connection to others.

Listening to the Language of Loneliness

Try something different next time you feel loneliness.

Don’t immediately flee from it.

Don’t immediately occupy yourself.

Instead, stay present and pay attention.

Consider the following:

• What is this feeling revealing to me?
• What part of me needs me to pay attention to it?
• What does this feeling of loneliness mean? What am I looking to connect with?

Your answers to these questions can give you insight that will far exceed that of any other distractions.

Know that loneliness does not mean you need more people.

It may mean you need to be more present.

More aware.

More honest.

More loving to yourself.

Exploring the Journey Even Deeper

Mindfulness is a lifelong exploration of awareness, attention, and inner transformation.

This deeper approach to awareness and concentration is explored in “The Mind Illuminated”, which presents a structured framework for understanding meditation practice and developing a more focused relationship with the mind.

This same perspective is also explored in “Wherever You Go, There You Are” by Jon Kabat-Zinn, which gently shows how simply becoming more present with your experience can deepen your connection with yourself and the world around you.

Resources like these are not about escaping reality.

They are about experiencing reality with greater clarity.

The Secret That Loneliness Has Been Whispering

Loneliness is not necessarily the dark thing we have always thought.

Perhaps loneliness is a soft messenger.

A messenger that wants us to slow down.

Wants us to listen.

Wants us to go inward, and

Wants us to remember.

Although the world has taught us to search everywhere, it is the opposite we must do. With mindfulness we will learn that we do not always need to look to the external.

It is often the case that we must become still, and see what has always been within.

This will shatter the perception that we are alone.

When you come to realize the beauty in the above, it accomplishes the following:

You realize you are not attempting to find a place where you belong.

You are attempting to find the awareness in yourself which is, and always has been, waiting for you to return.

The Secret Language of Loneliness was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Why isn’t it listening to me?
Why is it trembling so much?
What if someone sees me?
I don’t want to show the world that I’m weak.
But why am I thinking I’m weak?
I’m not, right?
Am I?
Or at least that’s what people say.
But wait
what if they’re lying?
People always lie, don’t they?
But why do I have to listen to them?
I have to listen to me.
Myself.
Right?
But
but this is me.
All these voices are mine.
So which one am I supposed to listen to?
Maybe I should stop listening to the voices inside my head and start listening to my heart.
But I can’t make decisions with my emotions, right?
What if I make the wrong decision?
What if my heart is wrong?
What if my mind is wrong?
What if I shut down the wrong voice?
What if the voice I silence was actually trying to protect me?
What if the voice I choose is the one that destroys me?
What if it gets worse?
And why does everything have to be a question?
Why can’t I just know?
Why can’t I trust myself?
Why does every decision feel like choosing between two versions of myself?
One telling me to stay.
One telling me to leave.
One telling me I’m strong.
Another telling me I’m weak.
One telling me to speak.
Another telling me to stay quiet.
And somewhere between all of them,
I’m just
tired.
Tired of trying to figure out which voice is telling the truth.

Tired of getting caught between my heart and my mind.
Tired of questioning every thought before I let myself believe it.
Tired of fighting with myself and calling it thinking.
Sometimes I don’t even know which part of me is trying to protect me
and which part is trying to destroy me.
And then there’s my body.
My body doesn’t feel like mine.
Why does everything feel so heavy?
Does it always take this much energy to drag yourself through the day?
To walk.
To speak.
To move.
Even to breathe?

How can something as simple as existing
feel like something you have to convince yourself to do?

the chaos in my head! was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I tend to end my essays with a positive mindset. This is because I’m afraid that if someone else that’s struggling comes across my work, and relates to it, then a desolate ending will only further their spiral.

But sometimes, this positive thinking takes a toll on me.
Always finding a lesson, a takeaway, a learning experience is exhausting.

Sometimes, damage is just damage.

A year ago, I was alleviated of a toxic relationship. Now, I keep finding reasons to state that it was worth it. It had a good start, it was my first relationship, he was kind to me at the beginning, and maybe now I know exactly what not to find in a man.

But, the truth?

That was just exceptionally horrible and nothing else.
No lessons learnt.
No takeaway.
It was plain emotional abuse which took a physical toll on me as well.

I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that it was okay, that if given the option I’d do it again. But, why?

Why would I put myself through that again?
I don’t understand it yet.

But maybe even this recognition is just damage, not a learning experience.

I’ve been writing pieces on Diane Nguyen (they haven’t yet been published).
And I keep recalling her statement on “good damage”.

If all of this pain does not amount to anything…what’s the point?

I saw a reel on Insta that said “don’t use AI for your writing, use your childhood trauma like everyone else.” I hate AI. So I laughed. But what about the second part of this statement? Is childhood trauma only valid if we monetise it?

I’ve barely written about my own almost-pristine childhood.
Sure they were bad moments, after all, I don’t remember more than half of it. But some days, even I feel like airing out my dirty laundry if it means I can get claps, recognition, or followers from it. It’s a difficult truth to admit.

Some days, I dream of writing a book on my own traumas.
I can guarantee that if not good, it’ll at least be entertaining.

And that given traction to my experiences. If someone else recognises them as bad, that’s how I know that they were SOMETHING. They were not just a figment of my exaggerated imagination.

But truthfully, this urge to have external validation to accept my horrible experiences, this urge to be positive about said experiences, it’s horrid.

Because firstly, my experience is valid no matter who knows about it.
My friends, family, they don’t need to confirm that I went through something. My testimony should be enough.

Now after recognising this, it should also be enough that sometimes damage is damage. Sometimes the chemicals in your brain change because of the way people treated you. It’s not learning, it’s not character development, it’s. just. harm.

You have the right to have a bad week without turning it into a profound piece about the bright world of staying positive. Without turning into a pained, deep piece about the truth of rainy days.

Sometimes, it’s better to just BE.

You Have The Right To a Bad Day was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Everyone knows the setup, even if they never read the poem. A man spends ten years trying to get home. The sea keeps throwing him back. Storms, monsters, bad luck, angry gods. The world, it seems, is against him.

But there is a quiet twist the story never says out loud. The man could have been home sooner. Something in him wasn’t ready. And every storm he cursed was, in some part, a storm he kept sailing back into.

We do the same. Not with gods and monsters, but with traffic and inboxes and difficult people and bad timing. The obstacle is always out there. The sea is always against us. And as long as we believe that, we never reach for the wheel.

⸻

First, you lead yourself.

Leadership doesn’t begin with a team. It begins with the one person you can never get away from. You.

Think of the last time everything felt stacked against you. The project, the boss, the circumstances, the timing. Now ask the harder question. How much of that storm did you steer into? How much were you delaying, avoiding, blaming, because facing the real thing was harder than fighting the weather?

This is not about blaming yourself for everything. Real storms are real. But there is a difference between a storm that happens to you and a storm you keep circling back into because some part of you isn’t ready to arrive. Leading yourself is learning to tell those two apart. It is the moment you stop shouting at the ocean and put your hands on the wheel.

Nobody follows a captain who is still arguing with the sea.

⸻

Then you lead others. But only so far.

Here is the part that humbled me most.

At one point the crew is starving. Their captain gives them a single rule. Do not touch the cattle on this island. He says it plainly. Then he falls asleep. And they do it anyway. The ship is destroyed. Every man drowns but him.

He did everything right. He saw the danger. He named it clearly. And it changed nothing.

If you have ever led anyone, a team, a child, a friend, you know this feeling in your bones. You can see exactly where someone is heading. You can warn them kindly and clearly. And they will do it their own way regardless, because people do not move on your timeline. They move on theirs.

So what is a leader actually for?

Not to force the ending. Not to drag anyone to shore. Your work is to offer, as clearly and generously as you can, and then to release your grip on whether they take it. You can hand someone the map. You cannot make them walk.

And there is a trap hiding inside helping. The moment you need them to listen, need them to change, need your advice to land and be thanked for, you have quietly stopped helping them and started serving your own ego. Real help is given freely and let go of completely. You offer it clean. What happens next was never yours to hold.

⸻

How the story actually ends.

Odysseus does get home. But not by winning his fight with the sea.

He gets home by stopping. He turns inward. He sets down the role of the hero. He even steps onto his own shore in disguise, as a nobody, a stranger. Only after the mask falls does he truly arrive.

That is the whole of it, said simply.

You lead yourself the day you stop blaming the storm and take the wheel.

You lead others the day you can offer everything and hold on to nothing.

And you arrive, in the end, not by conquering the world out there, but by making peace with the one voyage that was always yours to steer.

The sea was never the problem.

It never is.

The Sea Was Never the Problem was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Years ago, when I was in elementary school, people called me the quiet, nerdy girl.

When I was in high school, they called me arrogant, rude, and selfish.

Then came college. People started calling me nice, friendly, and smart. Some even called me Mother Teresa because I helped my classmates with lectures, homework, and exams.

But here's the question that keeps bothering me.

Am I really a Mother Teresa? Definitely not.

If I were, the people from my school wouldn't have called me selfish.

So, What changed?

Did I change? Or did the people around me change?

Why are there so many different versions of me?

For a long time, I thought I was the one constantly changing.

But after thinking about it, I realized something.

Maybe every person creates their own version of us. The version my classmates knew isn’t the same version my college friends know. The version my family knows isn’t the same version my coworkers know.

Each person sees only the parts of me that life allows them to see.

To someone, I'm quiet.

To someone else, I'm rude.

To another person, I'm kind.

And maybe all of them are right. Or maybe none of them truly know me.

Then another question crossed my mind.

If everyone has their own version of me,

What is the version that I see?

Who am I when no one is watching?

Who am I when I don't have to meet anyone's expectations?

Who am I without the labels people have given me over the years?

Maybe that's the hardest version to find.

The version that isn't shaped by opinions.

The version that doesn't try to fit in.

The version that simply exists.

I'm still looking for her.

Which Version of Me Is the Real One? was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

My world nearly ended a few days ago.
I received my 12th grade exam results, and they were even more horrible than my worst case scenario.

I cried for hours, contemplated harm, felt utterly hopeless.
Since kindergarten, I had worked towards this one grade.
This one defining thing.

And now?
I was robbed of my moment of glory.

Everyone else is perfectly happy, happy about the marks, happy that I made it out alive this past year, happy that I won’t be repeating twelfth. I even get a stern lecture when I try to express any disappointment.

But you know what no one else understands?
I worked hard this time.
Every other time was a half-assed attempt that ended with decent marks. This time was supposed to be different, I was supposed to have my photo in the newspaper.

Instead, the newspaper may just have my time of death.

I worked hard, so what if this is my best?
What if I’m just mediocre, or stupid, even?

I’m terrified of anything average, and I absolutely cannot and will not allow myself to be. My parents have demanded excellence most of my childhood, intentionally or unintentionally, that I do not know. So for them to do a 180 degree flip and suddenly pretend like their average child was oh so perfect was a slap in the face.

I want them to yell at me, to be disappointed, to hate me.
Why?
Because that means that they believe in me, that they can recognise that I can do better.

But now everyone is acting like this is my best, that I’ve outdone myself.

And that. is. terrifying.

But even more than that, I cannot rid myself of the disappointment I feel in myself. This was never supposed to happen, this isn’t real, is what I keep telling myself.

I can’t even bear to look in the mirror because that just confirms that I am Ika and Ika has failed. She will never get another chance at school.

It’s funny, I was lecturing my little sister on being unhappy with what she has, and only chasing what she wants. I forget that I am doing the exact same thing.

I have scored 90%, so to say, yet all I find myself doing is chasing the next 5%. Ignoring so much that I have already achieved.

I stayed alive this past year.
That alone has to be enough.
Passing 12th is the delectable cherry on top.

This magical thought process isn’t a one-way ticket out of grief and disappointment, those feelings linger still.
And I suppose they will linger till I live.

But I refuse to let them consume me.
Enough crying about that 1 mark I could have gotten.
The world isn’t black and white.
I’m living in the grey, and maybe that’s enough for now.

The Parasite of Perfection was originally published in CtrlAltGrow on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.