soojibox

[soojibox]

[soojibox]

we feel the same but i have found a hack to live life fully even in such a gloom. try this.

imagine you're running slow, your efforts seem vague and goal-less, you're always outdone by somebody else. there's always too much noise around you, not letting you breath. you're doing slower and slower and at times, you find yourself stuck. you look at the surrounding, it's running faster but you're slowing down. and then you stop. the snap, the hault feels uncomfortable but the calm lets you breathe. you look at yourself differently, there's pain perhaps but you're somewhat relieved. and now that you've stopped, stuck nowhere, you start planting yourself there. and then you build a life. and then you're no longer part of the race but taking a journey slower and steady.

imagine.

gang u ever feel that soulsucking feeling of never amounting to anything ever because everyone else will always do better than you do more than you have more than you and you will always be behind no matter how hard you run and the worst thing? youve found yourself running slower and slower because you can't seem to feel driven anymore

[soojibox]

Buckle up buddy, only you're there for yourself.

[soojibox]

Desiblr doesn’t feel like home anymore. It used to feel like family—safe, soft, familiar. So instead of just posting about how it's changed, maybe let’s try to make it better. Let’s try to make it feel like home again, like a warm hug. Now it’s loud, scattered, full of hate anons, random noise, and way too many people just shouting into the void. The old warmth is missing. Everything feels so random now, just like every other platform.

I wish we all interacted more, shared more love. So many of us are having bad days, and only a few of us have the courage to post about it—and even then, those posts often go unseen. It’s like having a terrible day, coming home, and no one even asks how you are, so you just lie in bed, rotting in silence.

But it doesn’t have to stay like this. We can bring the warmth back. We can make this a happy place again. And I really, really hope we do. We can be the reason someone feels a little less alone. We just have to show up for each other again.

[soojibox]

okay i feel better. i think i needed some movements to kick start my brain. i think i'll read something.

i need friends. i mean different friends for different things in life.

[soojibox]

i need friends. i mean different friends for different things in life.

[soojibox]

Stop telling temporary people so much about you

[soojibox]

it's back again. the thought of escaping the routine. i need a vacation.

[soojibox]

[soojibox]

[soojibox]

[soojibox]

i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever

[soojibox]

saw this cute post and now I'm not going on reddit for the rest of the day. quit while you're ahead

[soojibox]

[soojibox]

finished reading my second agatha christie. the story is set up in ww1 england. the plot heightens around a murder of an old lady. death fell upon an old lady at styles, stiring speculations around its nature. eventually it turns out that the stimulant was some drug and there starts the mystery, calling for agatha christie's first detective, the hercule poirot. poirot had his friend, hastings is out about and about the mysterious murder case. the plot drags everybody under suspicion in a convincing way. having a soft side for detective stories, my mind kept spiraling around joining the dots. each fact seemed connected to the other but surprisingly that lead nowhere. that's where the plot hooked me. there was rationale for all and quite good ones to be honest. some characters had strong motives while some had legit good ones. i think a good motive often outshines a strong one, this case was exactly same. the actual murder had a very good and simple motive, that laid in plain sight and often slapped on our faces. agatha christie has a way of making a devil out of the most innocent, my first read, the sad cypress, also had similar plot. the characters were too many but didn't feel odd however, i would have liked cynthia's character included a bit more into the story instead of just using a vague link with her motive. hasting, on the other hand, behaved somewhat like popatlaal (a character from tarak mehta ka ooltah chashma who's desperately wanting to get married) which was odd though. after having read and watched a few detective stories, i think i like convincingly confusing ones better than joining the dots kind. agatha christie serves it better. raw, real, brimming with information, and some dopamine, and of course some english vibe.

[soojibox]

i think the idea of living life itself is so confusing, one time i feel triggered cause i have to live life and then the other moment i feel glimmer shots like wow! i have to live life.