~emo

Somehow, it’s already June. The last time I wrote here was in April, but it feels like just yesterday. Time is such a strange thing—sometimes it rushes past, other times it drips by so slowly. The clocks might tick steadily, but how we feel time? That part makes no sense at all.

Before I sat down to write, I found myself thinking about… writing. How it quiets the noise in my head, how it lifts the heaviness of anxiety and softens the sharp edges of depression. It’s a little bit like magic—to have something that turns dark thoughts into lighter ones. To have something that feels like love.

With this post, I just want to reach out to you—whoever you are—and say: it’s okay to do what makes you happy. Whatever it is, whatever it costs—if it brings you peace, it’s worth it.

Don’t listen to the voices that say you’re not good enough. Not fast enough. Not young anymore. Too young. Not ready. Whether those voices come from the outside or whisper from inside your own head, know this: you can fight them. And you’re allowed to choose joy over... well, over this.

Sometimes, being yourself in this world feels like being a fish out of water. Or like Monkey D. Luffy underwater. Or even like a lone fruit dropped into a bowl of boiled lentils—just wrong, out of place, uncomfortable. And that’s okay. It should feel uncomfortable—because your spark burns brighter than most. Your imagination is wilder. Your potential, bigger. You feel out of place because you are more than what surrounds you.

Own it.

Do you know why I was able to write all the above to you?

Because I’ve lived it.

I’ve been left behind. I’ve been told I wasn’t enough. I’ve been dismissed, attacked, betrayed—pushed into dark places where I could barely breathe, let alone see a way out. And I had to claw, crawl, and climb my way back into the light, one shaky step at a time.

That’s how I know what I’m telling you is real. That’s how I know that joy is worth chasing. That peace is worth protecting. That your spark, even if it feels dim right now, is still there—and it matters.

You are not alone. The question is: Do you trust me?