reminderssinthesilence

[reminderssinthesilence]

Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home

It’s 8:29 PM. The sky is quiet. The stars aren’t visible. Even the moon isn’t trying tonight. And neither am I. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’ve run out of ways to fight battles that no one sees.

This isn’t a “bad day.” It’s just another day that doesn’t feel like mine.

I live in a house; not a home. And maybe the difference lies in how this place makes me feel. A home is supposed to hold you. But this one questions me, confuses me, and sometimes breaks me in ways I can’t explain. I don’t feel nurtured here. I feel watched. Corrected. Unmade.

It makes me wonder, is something wrong with me?

My mother is a strong woman. She has lived through fears, seen life’s edges, and shaped her views through pain. She wants the best for me, I know that. But sometimes, her way of love feels like a mirror that only shows me what I’m not.

She compares me to women who are “bold” but “failed.” Celebrities who chased their dreams, married late, or married outside their caste. She used to admire them until they did something she couldn’t accept, fall in love “the wrong way,” choose independence, or got divorced. Then suddenly, they become examples of what not to be.

And I can’t lie; her words have made me quietly start hating the idea of being a woman.

Being a woman, in her world, seems like a ticking time bomb of decisions that could make or break the family's pride. Fall in love? You're careless. Don’t fall in love? You're broken. Be friendly with a guy? You're losing your worth. Keep secrets? You're dangerous. Be honest? It might still be used against you.

I am 22 and I am single; by choice. But to her, that feels like a flaw. Or worse, like a threat. She’s convinced I need a man to stabilize me. She fears I might bring shame by loving the wrong person or making “modern” choices. When she's angry, she uses my own confessions to stab back. I feel betrayed; like nothing I say is ever truly safe.

And yet I still tell her everything, hoping maybe next time, she’ll understand.

But I’m the problem. Maybe I’m too stubborn. Maybe my need for space, for silence, for making my own mistakes, is a red flag. I don’t like being told what to do. I want to eat what I want. I want to walk with friends without suspicion. I want to breathe and not feel like I’m doing something wrong simply by existing freely.

I’m jealous of people in relationships, not because I want one, but because if I had one, maybe she’d stop projecting all her fears onto me. Maybe she'd finally feel relieved that I’m doing what’s expected of a “normal” girl.

But I don’t want to be a version of me that’s built to make someone else comfortable.

She loves me, but doesn't trust me. And I love her, but I need her to let me live. Just for a moment. Just enough to remember what freedom feels like. I don’t want to live in fear that my next move, word, or friendship will be misinterpreted. I just want peace and not approval.

I’m not ungrateful. I know she’s doing her best from the lens life gave her. But so am I. And the real issue is that I’ve started hating the version of me I become around her.

That hurts more than anything else.

Because being a woman, in a world where even your own mother is scared of what you might become is fucking lonely. I never thought I’d say this, but yes, I’ve started hating becoming a woman. Not because I don’t value women, but because it feels like everything about womanhood in my context comes with shame, caution, and silence.

I want to change this narrative. Not just for me, but maybe for her too.

Maybe one day, we’ll both learn that control isn’t protection. That trust is louder than fear. That love doesn’t have to suffocate to be real. But for now, all I want is air. Some space. A little grace to be who I am becoming. Even if no one understands me yet.

[reminderssinthesilence]

i found the password, but what i really found was her

i recovered an instagram account i opened in 2015. i had nothing, no email, no password, no backups. just a blank screen and a distant feeling that there was something waiting there.

instagram showed that my email started with A and ended with H. and somehow, instinctively, my first name and his name. in my email. and guess what the password was? his name again. i typed it, almost jokingly not expecting it to work. but it did. haha. when i finally got in, he wasn’t even there. not in the dms, not on the following list. he didn’t follow me, i didn’t follow him.

what i did find, though, was something i never expected to hit me this hard my girlfriends, our messy and dramatic life.

the late-night texts. the jokes that only made sense in our group chat. and then?  the blocks. so many blocks.

blocking someone wasn’t just a feature back then, it was a scream. a silent “i’m hurt and i don’t know how to say it out loud.” we blocked each other not to disappear, but to be noticed. and when the anger settled, we always came back. we always found our way to say, “i missed you.”

we used to tell each other how much it hurt. when we stopped talking. we admitted it, raw and direct. "i felt left out when you guys went without me" "i was hurt when you ignored me in school today" we were too honest sometimes, but at least we felt everything.

and isn’t it wild? i cared more about being validated by my friends than i ever did by boys, i just wanted them to think i was cool. pretty. worth holding onto. the kind of person you'd screenshot a memory of.

but now? we ghost people, we say “life got busy.” we forget to reply.

but i remember now. i remember all of it. and that has to count for something.

this is for the girls i laughed with, cried over, blocked, unblocked, and never stopped loving.

this is for the girl i was 10 years ago, boyyyy,.. she felt everything, and she was never as small as she thought.

— me, 2025 (ten years later, still remembering it all)

[reminderssinthesilence]

Feelings Are Just Visitors.

finding something to hold on to. something that makes sense, even for a second. longing out loud about being young; drinks in hand, nostalgia sharp in the throat.

finding new problems to fix. even if they’re not ours. especially if they can break us. pain feels familiar.

holding on to people who left. versions of ourselves that don’t exist anymore. loves that faded. friends who still see through the layers.

feelings walk in, sit down. make noise, and leave. cause' feelings are just visitors.

we laugh like nothing changed. we drink like it means something. we hold that beer-bottle like it’s a lifeline. like we’re afraid to drop.

holding on to places that disappeared. to homes that can’t hold us, so we hold what’s left. memories, noise or whatever that still answers when we call.

they’re not here to stay. none of it is. they come, they stay, they leave.

cause' feelings are just visitors.

[reminderssinthesilence]

In Between: Expectation Versus Reality

There are phases in life where nothing fits. Plans fall through. Timing slips. People drift. And you sit there, holding everything you tried to build, wondering if you were too hopeful? or just too early!

You watch things you cared about fall apart slowly; not with drama, but with distance. People you once felt bounded to seem further, even when they’re still in reach. It’s not that they did anything wrong. It’s not even jealousy. It’s the ache of presence fading of someone you once felt aligned with now sharing their light somewhere else. And you don’t want more than what exists. But still, something quietly stings when you feel like you’re being replaced, even in the smallest ways.

You carry guilt for feeling this way. For needing people, for caring deeply, for noticing the shift before anyone says a word. And there’s a weight in pretending it doesn’t bother you; in smiling when your heart feels loud and restless inside your chest. It’s hard to admit when you don’t feel chosen, even though no one promised they would.

Home isn’t helping either. The place you should feel safe in only makes you question yourself more. Everyone has opinions. Assumptions. Warnings. And part of you wonders if they’re right, not because you believe them, but because doubt has already made itself comfortable.

Still, deep down, you know this is just one of those chapters; the kind you read through slowly, waiting for the page to turn. You know this feeling won’t last. That clarity will come. That alignment will return. That this heaviness, however sharp, is temporary.

You’re not broken. You’re in between. And that, too, I hope is part of the story.

[reminderssinthesilence]

I Just Want To Grow.

Everyone’s running with papers in hand, plans on their head, feet pointed somewhere.

Me? I just carry silence, and let the chaos in my head fill my dreams.

They ask for my vision now, What if I forgot what wanting things feels like?

I nod, smile, make it polite. But inside,

a small voice claws up my throat: “I just want to grow.”

I'm tired of rooms that doesn’t feel like home, walls that echo, but never answer. Of hearing my name, but feeling invisible. Of talking, and still feeling unheard.

I want hours that mean something. I want silence that feels safe.

Is that too much?

Don’t tell me to run. Don’t hand me a timeline. I just need a space, To fall apart, To bloom again.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Life is a soup and I'm a chopstick.

Nothing in my life is going right. I hate people with their perfect little goals, acting like they have it all figured out. I hate them all. And I don’t even know where to put all this hate boiling inside me. Maybe it’ll fade when my period ends, but for now it’s fucking hell. Being a woman feels like a curse. Five days of pain and mood swings, and then the rest of the month just trying to clean up the mess from choices I made when I wasn’t even in control. It’s exhausting. It’s unfair. It fucking sucks. I’m done with Instagram. Done with the fake peace, the filters, the bullshit smiles. Done pretending I’m okay. And men? Fuck it. I’ll stay single forever. I wanted to be an independent woman. But you know what? Even that feels like a heavy burden now. I’m tired of holding everything together while falling apart inside.

Someone turned their quiet garden into a noisy school. And my best friend, the one person I want to talk to is here, but I can’t just drop every storm in his lap. He’s fighting his own battles, carrying his own weight.He does what he can, and for that, I am truly grateful. But God, sometimes I just want someone to say, “I’ve got you,” without me having to ask for it. And then came that damn rejection. Probably because the person judging me didn’t give a fuck. He just looked at me like I was a fraud, like I didn’t belong. Like I was already guilty. I’m so fucking angry. I hate that I let it break me like this. I hate that I feel like a loser because of one moment, one cold decision. Life’s a fucking soup, and I’m just a useless chopstick, slipping, struggling, not made for this mess.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Before We Begin Again;

A person walks into your life quietly, at the wrong time, or maybe the most perfect one; and everything shifts, without making any noise. You find yourself sharing silences that feels full, laughter that feels healing, and moments that leave no trace except the feeling that they matter.

We didn’t come together for love in the traditional sense. We found each other to grow, to ground, to quietly heal in each other’s presence. Not as partners in romance, but as something steadier.

You show up; not with grand plans, but with presence. You listen to the things I don’t always know how to say out loud. You laugh at the chaos when I forget to take a breath. You tell me the truth when I need it, and hold space when I need silence.

You never try to fix me. You just stand beside me; and somehow, I start putting the pieces back together myself. We don’t talk about “forever,” but we talk about the future; projects, cities, dreams. We make space in our stories for each other, not out of obligation, but because it feels right.

You’re healing me in ways you may never fully realize, just by being who you are. And you say I’m doing the same for you. Just two people learning to grow beside each other, through late-night conversations, shared silence, and mutual respect. Maybe it’ll never make sense from the outside. But it makes sense here. So, this is not a love story. This is a companion-ship. A healing. A mirror. A moment of clarity in a chaotic world. Sometimes, we just need someone to stand beside us while we become ourselves. And I’m grateful it’s you. with love,

[reminderssinthesilence]

“change”

Change is a fucking nightmare. One minute, everything’s slow as hell, and you’re stuck in the same place, waiting for something to happen. You try, but it feels like nothing moves. Then out of nowhere, everything speeds up, and it’s too much. The future you’ve been avoiding is suddenly here, and you’re expected to act. It’s fast, overwhelming, and you can’t keep up.

And then there's this. The pull between moving forward and leaving people behind. The connection you’ve built with someone, and the thought of walking away from that, even when things are unclear. You don’t know how to feel anymore. You care, but how do you balance that with everything else that’s happening in your life? The worst part? You’re stuck between wanting to break free and being too scared to leave behind the comfort you’ve always known. You want change but can’t fucking handle it. You’re angry as hell. You’re sleeping all day just to avoid the madness. At night, your thoughts race, and you dream the fear, can’t sleep.

Why is everything happening so fast? Why can’t it just slow down? You feel like you’re losing control. But my friend, “change” doesn’t care. It’s happening, whether you’re ready or not.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Too Many "Almost" With Too Many People.

It starts before it even starts. People naming the end before anything begins. A connection forms, and within days or weeks, the disclaimers arrive; “This won’t last.” “Different goals.” “Different timelines.” “Just a phase.”

No lies. No delusions. Everything on the table from day one. And still, the talking continues. Messages pile up. Days blend into nights on calls. Routines forms; not because there’s commitment, but because it’s easy. Easy to share space when both sides understand there’s an exit door open the entire time. There’s no conflict. Just caution. No heartbreak, just well-managed expectations. This isn’t detachment; this is pre-detachment. A built-in expiration date stamped on nearly every human connection.

Somewhere along the way, emotional awareness turned into emotional restraint. Not out of cruelty, just habit. Every soft feeling gets filtered through logic. Every bond stays half-formed. Close, but not entangled. Intimate, but never vulnerable enough to fall.

Romance exists. So does care. But belief? Belief in something lasting, has taken a hit. Better to be “realistic” than “naive.” Better to enjoy something temporarily than risk reaching for something that might dissolve.

So, it repeats. The “almost”. The “whateverships”. The “we talk all the time but we’re not really anything.” Connections that mean something, just not enough to fight for. Not enough to change course.

Familiar patterns now. The beginning always feels fresh. Sharp, clear attention. Subtle fascination. But underneath that, a quiet understanding: this will likely end. That thought stays in the background, unspoken but present, shaping every interaction.

It’s not coldness. It’s conditioning.

In a culture where everything shifts fast, the jobs, cities, identities, priorities, it actually makes sense. Permanence feels unrealistic. So, people build moments instead of futures. Safe, temporary places to feel seen, until it’s time to move on.

And there’s no villain in this. Just design. A system that rewards detachment. A lifestyle that trains the mind to keep expectations low. A generation that learned not to hope too loudly.

The result? A long list of people who once meant something. Not enough to stay. Just enough to remember.

Too many almost. Not enough real.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Chaitra & Baishak

Like Chaitra reaching for Baishak’s door,

we found us, then asked for no more.

When you know, you know; without a name,

but knowing doesn't always mean we stay.

You are a moment I can’t hold tight,

a voice that fades into a softer light.

Two souls, right rhythm, wrong rhyme,

walking together on borrowed time.

We didn’t lose, we didn’t win,

we just paused somewhere in between.

Still, in some quiet corner of me,

we will live; like unfinished poetry.

[reminderssinthesilence]

She Who Wants It All.

She bites her tongue mid-sentence, not because she’s unsure but because the world never asked what she really meant to say.

In her chest, a voice made of fire and petals, yearning to spill from lips that were once told to behave.

She dreams in silk and thunder, of kisses that don’t fear depth, of hands that read her like poetry, not skim her like a page.

Desire hums through her fingertips, not just the touch of skin on skin, but the ache to be seen in every secret she’s buried beneath “I’m fine.”

She doesn't want half-loves or conversations that trail off. She wants soul, she wants pull. She wants a storm that makes her still.

And even when her throat wavers, when her words tangle like vines, she keeps speaking. Keeps choosing herself, keeps loving like it’s the only magic that’s real.

She walks forward a mirror of softness wrapped in steel, magnetic not because she tries, but because she feels.

And oh, she’ll be touched, not just by hands, but by fate, by a future that listens, by a love that doesn't flinch.

She’s not asking. She’s becoming.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Can I stay?

I walk, I stop, I lose my way

Chasing dreams that slip away.

My feet are tied, tied yet free

But can they run with you when you say?

My hands write, they work, they play

Lost in the chaos, day by day.

They long to rest, yet never stay,

But can they hold your words when you say?

My mind drifts like cloud above,

Full of worries, full of love.

It thinks, it plans, it drifts above

But can it pause to hold your love?

I move with time, with life, with you

Through changing weathers, through all I do.

Can I pause and rest a while?

But can I stay and make you smile?

[reminderssinthesilence]

Push and Pull.

You push me away with words you don’t mean,

Then pull me back with whispers unseen.

A storm and a shelter, all in one breath,

A step toward me, then a step back in regret.

I check my phone, waiting, unsure,

Tracing the silence, aching for more.

You say, "Let’s stop," then miss me the same,

Like losing me is some kind of game.

I don’t need promises, carved in stone,

Just tell me if I stand, here alone.

If fear holds you, I’ll understand,

But don’t hold my heart with unsteady hands.

Still, I stay, caught in between,

A bond unspoken, yet deeply seen.

Not love, not nothing; something untold,

A story still writing, but losing its hold.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Trap.

Independence? wasn’t it grand?

A life of my own, no need for a hand.

Yet here I stand, exhausted and torn,

Chasing a freedom that feels like a thorn.

This is a game, a cruel little trick,

There for the laughs, but gone when it’s thick.

He listens to jokes, to thoughts left unsaid,

But never to silence, to fears in my head.

Maybe I’ll rise when the anger is gone,

Find my own path, keep moving on.

But tonight, I’ll sit with the fire inside,

Let it burn, let it scream no need to hide.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Uncertainty.

Two people, two different paths, But somehow, connected in a way you can't explain. Both too young to know if this will last, But old enough to feel the fear of losing it.

Love hasn’t been easy So you take it slow, Never saying everything you feel, Keeping some things to yourself, Because it’s safer that way.

You talk about life, about dreams that go beyond where you are now, You make plans, wild and maybe impossible plans, For the day you finally meet. But deep down, you don’t know if that day will ever come.

What happens if life takes you in different directions? What if time slowly fades what we have? What if one day, the messages stop, And you drift apart, like nothing ever happened?

The thought is always there, Quiet in the moments between your chats. But still, you hold on, Because right now, they’re here. Right now, you share this moment, Where everything is uncertain, but it still feels right.

[reminderssinthesilence]

Break Me Softly.

If it’s not forever, let it be now. Let it be stolen breaths, fingers craving, bodies unseen but still, the hunger stays.

Tell me how you’d have me, pressed against a wall, legs shaking, lips bruised or whisper it slow, dragging your voice over my skin like you already know how I taste.

We are nothing but heat and distance, touching without touching, fucking without feeling except we do, don’t we? Because when the screen goes dark, when the night swallows us whole, the ache still lingers.

I am your escape, you are mine. We laugh, we tease, we burn. And when this ends, because it will will you miss the way I made you want?

Or will I just be a ghost between your fingertips, a memory of pleasure you never got to claim?

[reminderssinthesilence]

I met my younger self for coffee this morning. She sat across from me, stirring her drink, eyes filled with questions she hadn’t yet learned to ask. She didn’t know yet about the heartbreak that would shape her, the quiet realization of who she truly is, or the courage it would take to leave home and chase something bigger. She didn’t know about the battles with her own body, the nights of doubt, or the strength she’d find in herself. “Are we okay?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer. I smiled, sipping my coffee. “We’re getting there,” I said. And for now, that was enough.