my Love!!

It all began exactly one year ago. She called me one day and asked if we could meet. At that time, I didn’t realize that one simple meeting would change the entire course of my life.

She is from Vietnam. I am from India. Two souls from completely different worlds, languages, and cultures. And somehow, fate decided that we would meet in Japan — a third place neither of us called home, yet a land that became the starting point of something deeply meaningful.

From the very beginning, our journey was not simple. We had to face countless ups and downs. Misunderstandings, moments of silence, cultural gaps, and the difficulty of not being able to express every emotion in our mother tongues — they all tested our bond. But we kept going. Somehow, we always found a way. Because when love is real, you don’t give up; you grow through it.

As time passed, we started opening up more about who we were — not just who we are today, but who we were as children. We shared our childhood stories, our little heartbreaks, dreams, and family memories. And in those long conversations, we realized something deeply powerful — maybe we met because we were meant to. Maybe this was never a coincidence. It felt like we were two parts of one whole, waiting to be reunited.

There was a turning point that still feels surreal. She took me to a Vietnamese Buddhist temple — an otera tucked away from the city noise. We sat with the head monk and shared our story with her, unsure of how she would respond. To our surprise, she listened with a heart full of compassion. And in that quiet room filled with incense and ancient peace, she offered us her support, like a parent would. It was the first time someone outside of us truly understood what we were building together.

Today, we live together. Our families — hers in Vietnam and mine in India — know about us. And even though our cultures are oceans apart, both families told us the same thing:

“If you both are happy, then we are happy.”

I often sit back and think — is this real? Did we really manage to overcome all of it? Sometimes, it truly feels like a dream. A dream written not in the same language, but in the same feeling. In love, in trust, in the belief that two hearts can find their way — no matter where they come from.

And if you ask me now what I believe, I’d say this:

Love is not about speaking the same language. It’s about hearing each other with the heart and after all things just staying together.!!

And this is us❤️

May 31

Today I read something about the purpose of existence.

The book I’m reading tries to answer the question, “Why am I here?”

To be honest, I still have no clue.

I think there are two lines we walk in life — reality and imagination.

Sometimes, I can’t tell them apart.

Maybe they were never separate to begin with.

And maybe that’s okay.

I’m not sure I’m here to find a purpose.

I think I’m here to embrace existence —

To live fully, even when the “why” remains unclear. Peace

confession!!

Firstly, I am so sorry for making everyone worried and troubled. Just because I was in a troubled state, I ended up putting everyone else in that same weight. I am genuinely sorry to each and every one of you. But in that chaos, I gained clarity. I saw who truly stands beside me. I found people who held me when I couldn't hold myself, and I know now — some of you are for life. That is something I’ll never take for granted.

Oh, my Nayna. Thank you for all the Facetimes — even now, while I write this, you’re still on the call. You always worry about me more than yourself. But listen, I’m okay now, so please focus on your work. Still, thank you for making me feel special, every single day. And yes, I admit it — no one else in this universe is allowed to call me 786 times until I pick up. Only you. And when I finally answer, you’re not angry — you’re just relieved. You ask, "Are you alright? I was missing you." I ask, "Why aren’t you angry?" You say, "Why should I be?" That’s who you are. Gentle, kind, and understanding. A beautiful soul that everyone deserves beside them. Thank you.

To my brother Daxter — you're the definition of a real one. Our connection? A mystery, but one of the best gifts of my life. You're a genius in your own right. And I know, one day, the world will know too. You’re doing everything right with clarity and integrity. I’ll always be cheering for you. And as promised, no plugs — people who need your light will find it. That’s the truth.

Jane. You’re more than just an angel — you’re grace walking on earth. Remember my first reaction when I saw you? Of course, you do. You should seriously consider acting, you're that mesmerizing. And every day, you wait for me downstairs — that small, quiet moment means more to me than you know. And that perfume? No one else but me got that. You inspire me to run, to push, to breathe better. I’m running with you every morning now, and it’s become the most grounding part of my day. I promise I’ll beat you soon, just let me adjust my breathing. You're the sexiest, strongest motivator a person could have. I hope life brings you every ounce of joy you give to others. And thank you again for those perfumes — they smell like confidence.

Marry. Your food is healing — body and soul. I can’t explain how you always show up right when I forget to eat, but you do. You know me better than I know myself sometimes. I would never be this healthy without you. And the chocolates? I ate a few, but we’ll finish the rest together. Thank you for caring like a mother, without asking for anything back. I owe you more than I can repay.

Yuko. I owe you a mountain of thanks and an ocean of apologies. For letting me stay, for your kindness, for sharing your space and your heart. The dresses I used — I’ll replace them all and then some. You did more for me as a friend than my own blood ever did. Words don’t do justice to what I feel. I’m forever grateful. And I am so, so sorry for any inconvenience I caused.

Maya. Thank you is too small. You showed up when I needed someone the most. The way you held me, spoke to me — I still hear your words echoing in my ear. I promise I’ll come see you, this time for real. Please, take care of yourself. Who knows what could’ve happened without you?

And then... the emails. So many. Heartfelt. Honest. Unexpected. And I wondered, why do people wait until someone’s gone to say what they really feel? Why not say it when they’re still breathing, still here? That’s the lesson I carry now. I tried replying to all, but if I missed you — I’m sorry. I’m human. I’ve made mistakes. But I want to live this life with open arms and open eyes now. Let’s keep living, together.

Thank you for making me feel loved in ways I never thought possible. I’ve never felt more alive, more held, more whole. I am truly the luckiest soul in the universe to be surrounded by people like you — people who support, uplift, and believe in one another. This is a family. One born of connection, not blood. And every single one of you matters to me.

I love you all. Even if your name isn’t written here, your email, your words, your thoughts — they reached me. And we’ll talk more. That’s a promise.

No more darkness from my side. No more silence. Saying it loud and clear, hand raised high: I’m here. I’m grateful. And I’m ready to live the life you all believed I could. ❤️

the notebook!

When I was in school, I watched a movie called "The Notebook," and for the first time, I found myself deeply moved, crying openly, understanding for the first time how love could drive people to do beautifully irrational things. It impacted me so profoundly that I saved it carefully on my old hard disk, promising myself I'd watch it again only when I truly felt something special with someone.

Yesterday, I rediscovered that old hard disk, hidden among forgotten things. As soon as I saw it, a wave of nostalgia hit me—memories flooding back of younger days, simpler dreams, and the pure belief in lasting love. With curiosity and sentimentality, I decided to watch "The Notebook" once again.

Watching it today, I found myself crying yet again, tears rolling freely, reminding me why this movie meant so much. It wasn't just a story on a screen; unknowingly, it had shaped the deepest corners of my heart, subtly guiding me in my search for genuine love, genuine connections.

Yet now I understand clearly—life is not a scripted film; it's unpredictable, real, and unique for each of us. Even when we deeply connect with others, their paths might differ from ours, and that's perfectly okay. Each person has their own journey, deserving respect and understanding. Embracing this reality has not been disappointing but empowering, allowing me to appreciate relationships and experiences more deeply.

Reflecting on my current situation, I realize how significantly my life has transformed. I completed my education, moved to a completely different country, and found myself in a world of unfamiliar faces, without family, without real friends, surrounded by a different culture, a new work life, and a deep sense of solitude. Yet in that quiet isolation, I discovered a strange kind of peace—one that came not from comfort, but from resilience and acceptance. Life seemed to change around me quietly, smoothly, as naturally as seasons shifting—but the reality was far different. The transition was filled with silent struggles, emotional turbulence, and the weight of adapting to a completely new world. Through these changes, I've come to a meaningful realization: achievements, money, pride, and societal image—these things are fleeting illusions. Though I always knew this in theory, now I truly experience it firsthand. Living through the contrast between expectations and reality has given this understanding a deeper, unshakable truth. They do not truly fulfill us.

What truly matters, what we genuinely crave, is human connection. We need like-minded people—whether few or many—who understand us, support us, and share our dreams and sorrows alike. The ultimate journey in life is about mutual support, helping each other find happiness, peace, and fulfillment. Yet sometimes this journey can be solitary, and there's beauty in that as well.

Ultimately, whatever our ambitions, whatever path we choose, we all seek one thing—inner peace. It's peace of mind we yearn for, the quiet satisfaction within our souls that tells us everything is alright. Sometimes achieving this peace is easy, and sometimes it's challenging. Sometimes we reach our goals, and other times we adjust our course. But peace remains our ultimate destination.

Comparing myself now to the younger version of me who first watched "The Notebook," I feel something deeper than nostalgia—it’s a quiet longing for a time when I believed everything would unfold the way stories do. Back then, I thought love was simple: you meet someone, fall deeply, and hold on forever. That belief lived in my chest like a promise. Watching that movie for the first time didn’t just make me cry—it gave me a lens through which I started to see the world, and unknowingly, I carried that lens.

But life, I’ve learned, doesn’t follow a script. It stutters, it surprises, it breaks and builds all in the same breath. And love—real love—isn’t always cinematic. It’s messy and complicated and sometimes ends before you understand why. Yet those early beliefs still shaped me. They made me look for depth in people, crave sincerity, and hold space for the kind of emotion that doesn’t need words.

Now, as I walk forward through unfamiliar cities and foreign days, I carry those memories not as regrets, but as reminders. They remind me that I once dared to hope purely, to dream freely. And maybe that’s what keeps me moving—not the search for a perfect love or a perfect ending, but the gentle echo of a younger heart that still believes, quietly, that peace, connection, and something meaningful might still be waiting somewhere, just beyond the bend. Who knows? Peace!!

golden week!!

Yeah, it was a much-needed holiday — one I truly needed. So many things happened in just the blink of an eye. And now, finally, I can see the bigger picture. Woah.

As human beings, we all go through tough phases. Even when life seems simple, complications creep in. I was caught in one of those phases. It wasn’t clarity I was seeking — it was validation. And somehow, this morning, I finally found it. Everything that had been hidden deep within me became visible.

The morning started cloudy, with the kind of gray that quietly sinks into your mood. As predicted, it began to drizzle — just enough to blur the windows and quiet the streets. Then came the rain, steady and full, almost like nature’s way of crying with me. It felt like a cleansing, like the skies were helping to rinse away the heaviness I had been carrying for weeks. And then, just as suddenly, the rain stopped. The clouds began to part, and a soft, golden sunlight spilled across everything. It wasn’t dramatic — just enough to make you notice. And it felt like a sign, a whisper from the universe saying, "Even this will pass."

That weather — that journey from cloud to rain to light — mirrored what I was going through. My thoughts, once jumbled and stormy, were starting to settle. I had been suffering in silence for a long time. The people I once held close had grown distant. I longed for someone — anyone — to reach out, to say, "Don’t worry, everything will be okay." But no one came. And so I sat with the silence, and in doing so, I began to hear my own voice again.

Sometimes, even those you trust the most walk away at the very moment you need them. I had read about this in books — pages filled with wisdom, pain, and healing — but it’s a different thing altogether to feel it in your bones. And in that kind of moment, you’re forced to learn how to walk alone. That’s how strength is born — not out of comfort, but out of loneliness. That’s when you realize who’s truly with you, and who only walked beside you when the sun was shining. And truth be told, now that I’ve lived through that storm, I understand why people write about it. Still, I never want to go through this kind of emotional storm again.

So, let me try to put this into words.

Like everyone else, I have a family, friends, and special people in my life. But in what felt like the blink of an eye, everything changed. Everyone seemed to drift away. Just when I moved to a new place and started a new job, suddenly, I was surrounded by strangers. I started questioning myself: Am I the wrong one? Am I making mistakes? My self-esteem dropped, and I was drowning in the feeling that maybe I was to blame for it all.

I held on tightly to my old mindset — believing that loyalty means forever, that love never fails, that the people you give your heart to will always show up when needed. But reality unfolded differently. The people I thought would never leave, did. Some showed their true colors, and it hurt. I was clinging to memories, to expectations, and it only deepened the suffering.

But then came the silence. The solitude. And in that silence, I had no choice but to keep going — to do the work, to eat, to put on a smiling face for the new people around me. But deep inside, I felt like I was living through a never-ending dark night. I realized I was holding on to people who had already let go of me.

One day, during a long walk through the quiet streets of my new city, I looked around and realized that change isn’t always the enemy. Sometimes, it’s the path to liberation. And maybe, just maybe, I had to let go of what no longer served me. I began to find peace in small moments — a kind word from a stranger, the warmth of the morning sun, a deep breath that didn't feel heavy.

I also started noticing the people who stayed. Not the ones I expected, but the ones who listened, who checked in without being asked, who accepted me without judgment. That’s when I understood — it’s not about the number of people around you, but the depth of connection you share with a few.

Sometimes, you have to change your old mindset. Letting go of what you once thought was permanent isn’t easy — it feels like losing a part of yourself. But you have to allow new people to become your home, to step into your life with open hearts. And as you let them in, they might just find a home in you too. In that space of renewal, you begin to realize that not everyone leaves — some people arrive. And among them, sometimes you meet those rare, special people who feel like they've been waiting for you all along. People who don't just enter your life, but understand your silence, see your scars, and still choose to stay.

And maybe, all this pain, all this distance, all these lessons — they were meant to shape you into someone who is ready to receive the love and peace you've always deserved. Who we contact and connect with in those moments of change truly matters — not those who left, but those who arrive and stay when you're at your most vulnerable.

And that’s where I am now — not completely healed, but no longer broken. Just… growing.

And that’s enough. And one last message to those who lost me…

Just because you lost me as a friend doesn’t mean you gained me as an enemy. I’m bigger than that, my guy. I still want to see you eat — just not at my table… Peace✌🏻

new page!!

As life turns its pages day by day, we, too, change with it. Moving to a new city has been like starting a fresh chapter—new streets, new shops, new faces. In the midst of adjusting my routines and finding my rhythm here, time seems to blur. I’ve become so busy that time itself feels like it has no time. Yet, ironically, I now have more moments to reflect and write than I did during my student life.

So, I’ve started a new page called “Whispers.” It’s a space for my thoughts—short, quiet reflections instead of long blog entries. This way, I can express myself more freely and regularly without being overwhelmed.

I’m also making a conscious effort to invest more in myself again. I’ve been thinking about picking up photography, something I’ve always wanted to explore more. Lately, I’ve been streaming my guitar sessions more often, and it feels good to reconnect with that side of me. With this extra “me time,” I hope to rediscover parts of myself I had put on hold.

Everyone needs a way to express themselves—and “Whispers” is mine. It’s not just a blog, but a reminder to stay in motion, to keep exploring, and never stay stuck in one place for too long.

So, here’s to new pages, new passions, and new beginnings. Let’s do this. Peace ✌️

Childhood!!

I survived a childhood where my inner child was dead—a sentence that sounds heavy because it carries the weight of unspoken battles, silenced laughter, and stolen moments of innocence. It wasn’t that I didn’t grow up; rather, I grew up too soon. I lived in a world where maturity wasn’t a choice but a survival mechanism, and where the small joys of childhood were luxuries I could not afford. I had to become someone older than my years, someone who knew responsibility before joy, and silence before self-expression.

From an early age, I learned to read the room before I learned to read books. I knew how to soothe the tension in the air, how to keep quiet when things got loud, and how to avoid being the reason someone else felt overwhelmed. The home that should have been a shelter was sometimes a battlefield of expectations, emotional storms, or neglect. There were no bedtime stories, only the stories I told myself to sleep. There were no tantrums, only inner negotiations of what I could afford to feel without upsetting the fragile balance of my environment. Because of this, I never really got to know my inner child. That version of me—curious, spontaneous, playful—was buried deep under layers of caution and maturity. I didn’t know how to play for the sake of playing. I didn’t have the luxury to be vulnerable, messy, or carelessly joyful. I envied other children who laughed loudly and cried freely, because I was busy managing emotions too big for someone so small. My maturity was not noble—it was necessary.

Now, as an adult, I find myself drawn to mature people. Those who are grounded, emotionally aware, and responsible attract me like magnets. They reflect the survival traits I cultivated early on. I admire people who have a sense of control, who listen deeply, who understand pain, and who communicate without hurting. But here lies the cruel irony—I admire them because I became like them far too early. And I hate that. I hate that maturity, for me, was not a destination reached after youthful exploration, but a shortcut forced by circumstance.

Sometimes I wonder who I might have been had I been allowed to just be a child. Would I have been more carefree? Would I smile more, cry less, worry less about being “too much” or “not enough”? I mourn the childhood I never had. I grieve the version of me who never got to feel safe being little, loud, and loved without conditions. There is sadness in becoming the adult you needed as a child, especially when that adult now resides in a body carrying wounds disguised as wisdom.

Yet here I am, surviving still. There is strength in surviving, even if survival cost me my innocence. There is depth in being mature, even if maturity arrived as a burden. And though my inner child feels distant, I now try to speak to them—gently, with patience. I try to give myself permission to be silly, to rest, to create without purpose. Healing is not linear, and some days I feel like I’m parenting the little me I lost. But that, too, is part of survival.

So yes, I survived a childhood where my inner child was dead. And now, piece by piece, I am learning to resurrect them—not to erase my past, but to reclaim the joy I was once denied.

current mindset!!

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships, and I’ve come to realize that I’m not quite ready to fully commit to one. It’s not that I don’t value connection—but it's just that I really enjoy my alone time. I feel like I don’t get enough of it. I work long shifts, come home, and still have a list of other things to take care of. And somewhere in between all of that, I wonder: where’s the time just for me?

I need that space to focus on myself—to recharge, reflect, and simply breathe without always thinking about the next task or responsibility. So when I ask myself where a relationship fits into all of this, the honest answer is: it doesn’t. At least, not right now.

This realization has actually brought me a sense of relief. I no longer feel the pressure to force something I’m not ready for. Instead, I can focus entirely on myself, which is something I genuinely love doing. That time and energy I give myself is everything to me. It allows me to grow, to heal, and to work toward a version of my life that brings me real happiness.

And I’ve noticed something else—something powerful. The more I focus on positivity, the more positive my life becomes. Things that used to completely throw me off no longer have that power. Sure, challenges still come up, but they don’t shake me like they once did. I’ve built a sense of peace within myself, and I carry that into every day.

It wasn’t always like this. I used to be sad—really sad. But I took it one day at a time. I made small choices to appreciate what I have, to look for the good, even if it was just one thing. And from there, things began to shift.

Now, I feel grateful every day. I look at my life—what I have, what’s coming, and all the growth ahead—and I feel proud. When I started embracing that gratitude, everything began to slowly improve. And I’m still on that journey. Peace

to, Tokyo!!

Nearly two springs ago, I stepped into Tokyo, chasing something intangible—something hidden in time and space. Now, two years have passed, and as I sit down to write, I realize this city didn’t just happen to me—I happened to it. If I step back and look from a distance, though only a week has passed since I left that cozy room, I see myself clearly: relentless, restless, reaching for everything at once.

In these two years, I did so much. Another graduation, night shifts at part-time jobs, drifting through a sea of unfamiliar faces, soaking in knowledge, and pushing forward with an urgency I could barely comprehend. It was an intense, unforgiving stretch of time—one that changed me in ways I am still uncovering. And though I am just a 30-minute ride away, I already feel the absence of Tokyo settling in. I miss the air, the never-ending flow of people, the endless lights, the food, and the way time felt different there.

Tokyo gave me stories—too many to count. The late-night walks through neon-lit streets, when the world felt like it was holding its breath. The ramen shop on the corner where I sat alone at first, then later with friends, laughter filling the air along with the scent of broth. The bookstore in Jimbocho where I spent entire afternoons, losing track of time as I flipped through pages of forgotten poetry. The train rides—sometimes silent, sometimes filled with voices that became familiar. The rainy evenings when I stood at a crossing, watching headlights reflect on wet pavement, feeling like I was inside a movie whose ending I hadn’t yet seen.

In my last week in Tokyo, I finally visited Tokyo Tower. The opportunity had presented itself countless times before, yet I never went. I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted to leave something undone—a reason to return. But when I reached the top, I didn’t just see the city; I saw my childhood. As a child, I had only known it through anime, newsletters, and stamp papers. I never thought I would stand before it—not like this. But here I am, walking forward, carrying every version of myself within me. And as my dreams grow bigger, as my ambitions stretch further, I owe it to my younger self to see them through. After all, it was me who dreamt them in the first place.

Tokyo was more than just a city; it was a timeline, a chapter, a feeling. I made friends whose paths may never cross mine again. I laughed, I struggled, I lived. There aren’t enough words to thank the people who shared those fleeting moments with me, but perhaps that’s the beauty of it. Some things don’t need words—they just exist in memory, in the spaces between then and now.

And so, I move forward. Not away, but onward. Tokyo will always be a part of me, in ways I have yet to understand. But for now, all I can do is take a deep breath and keep going.

To conclude this journey: It’s time to start living. Life is the greatest miracle to have ever happened. Look up at the sky and witness a masterpiece—billions of stars burning in silence, planets drifting among them. Look around and realize that you exist on the only one that breathes. Now, take a look in the mirror and understand that what you see is the greatest work ever created. We only get so much time to experience this life, and certainly not enough to do anything half-heartedly. If you’re going to do something, do it. If you have a dream, a vision—pursue it fully and embrace the journey that comes with it. So what if you get lost or fail? You learn, you find your way, you persevere. Because it is in that process, in that journey, that true living happens. And yes what I lost was never mine, but what you lost was only yours. Peace!!

Moving On!!

There are endless ways to live your life—limitless opportunities waiting to be embraced. That dream of yours? It’s not unrealistic. You are not foolish for believing in it. The only thing standing between you and that dream is you. Too often, we let fear and doubt hold us back. But the moment we release those fears and take action, we step closer to making our vision a reality.

It won’t always be easy, and that’s okay. The journey may be challenging, but it will be worth every effort. With each small victory, each step forward, you will find yourself more determined, more inspired to keep pushing. Success is not a single defining moment—it is the product of daily effort, discipline, and unwavering perseverance.

Some days will be tough. Some days, even getting out of bed will feel overwhelming. But if you rise, if you show up for yourself, if you pour your heart into your dreams, failure will never be an option—unless you choose to walk away. The only true defeat is in giving up.

So if you are striving for a life of purpose and fulfillment, give it your all. Believe in yourself, push through the struggles, and never let go of your dreams. Because in the end, persistence is what shapes success through deliberate practice, cognitive resilience, and an unwavering commitment to one’s aspirations. The path to fulfillment is neither linear nor effortless, but it is a dynamic process of refinement, adaptation, and intellectual growth. Every challenge encountered serves as an opportunity for self-discovery and skill enhancement, reinforcing the foundational principle that perseverance and strategic action ultimately dictate the trajectory of success.

So, here’s to the beginning of a new season—one filled with growth, determination, and the courage to chase what sets your soul on fire. Let this be the chapter where you step boldly into your purpose, unafraid and unstoppable.

————

Dear Me,

I am so sorry. I’m sorry for carrying the weight of the world when your own hands were trembling. I’m sorry for not giving you the time to heal, for asking you to mend the wounds of others while you were still bleeding. I’m sorry for the days when even smiling felt like a burden, yet you forced yourself to laugh so no one would worry. I’m sorry for giving so much of your love and energy to those who never returned it in the same measure.

You deserved kindness. You deserved rest. And most of all, you deserved the same love and care that you so freely gave to others.

But now, it’s time to choose yourself. To heal. To grow. To become everything you were meant to be. Because you are worthy of joy, peace, and a life that lights up your soul.

So step forward with strength. Embrace the journey ahead. And above all, never forget—you are enough. Peace!!