AnasAbdin
styofa doing anything
KIROKAZE
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor
titsay
JBB: An Artblog!
RMH
noise dept.
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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Misplaced Lens Cap
Product Placement
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@divyashana
Sometimes people do not disappear physically. They disappear emotionally while standing right beside us. “A Funeral Among the Living” is a haunting reflection about invisibility, self sacrifice, and the silent loneliness that begins when someone finally chooses themselves. New post on [TreazuredPen] https://treazuredpen.com
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Sometimes people do not disappear physically. They disappear emotionally while standing right beside us. “A Funeral Among the Living” is a haunting reflection about invisibility, self sacrifice, and the silent loneliness that begins when someone finally chooses themselves. New post on [TreazuredPen] https://treazuredpen.com
Sometimes the lessons we once called “useless” quietly return to help us understand life better. From repairing a water cooler to learning HTML at 38, from baking to writing poetry, this piece is a reflection of how learning never truly ends. Not written by an expert, but by an ordinary person still figuring life out one lesson at a time. If you have ever felt the same, maybe this post will resonate with you too. Read the full post on TreazuredPen. https://treazuredpen.com/
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Sometimes we think we have nothing to offer, when in truth we are just in the wrong place. This piece is about a quiet realization I had, watching a pothos plant that never grew until it found where it truly belonged. Maybe we are not lacking, just misplaced. Sharing a small story that stayed with me, hoping it speaks to someone who feels the same.
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Some dreams disappear with the morning light… and some stay behind like a shadow within us. When My Name Disappeared | It Was Only a Dream is a deeply personal piece born from one such haunting night. Instead of letting fear live endlessly inside my mind, I chose to place it into words. A prose poem about fear, identity, silence, death, and the strange gratitude of waking up alive. New post on TreazuredPen — Divya | TreazuredPen
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Happy Mother’s Day!
This Mother’s Day, tilt your gaze a little and look at a mother beyond all the roles she plays. Beyond care, sacrifice, strength, and responsibility… perhaps she is also the quiet keeper of every version of us that ever existed. We never truly realize what a mother is until one day we understand that she was the only person who carried every version of us within her memory. The world may know…
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Blend
There was a painterwho fell in love with a color. Not because he knew the color,not because he understood its depth,But because he believed one thing with all his heart: This color could give his life’sgreatest portrait. He held the brush carefullyeach time he touched her. He watched the way she spreadacross the quiet white canvasand felt certainthat destiny had placed this shade in his…
Yesterday my mind stopped for a moment. No thoughts. No answers. Just silence. And in that silence, I felt like a lost child in a crowded fair. What I discovered in that strange moment made me write something unexpected. Read the full reflection on my blog. Divya | Treazured Pen
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Belonging Everywhere Yet Nowhere: A Quiet Dream of Dignity
Belonging Everywhere Yet Nowhere Hey readers, Happy Sunday. Sunday mornings have a different kind of quiet.The kind you rarely notice during the rest of the week. The light feels softer somehow. The sky looks a little wider. Even the trees seem to stand still for a while as the wind slips gently through their leaves. Maybe that is why Sundays often feel like a pause in the middle of…
Overcoming Racing Thoughts: A Poetic Reflection
Hey readers, happy morning! Today I woke up in a panic. The reason was simple. I snoozed my alarm, then stopped it, and fell asleep again. Nothing serious happened. I was not late for anything important. But my mind reacted as if something terrible had already begun. Within seconds, overthinking started. What if the whole day goes wrong now? What if this small mistake ruins everything? What…
The Day the Voices Gathered
It began as a quiet afternoon, the kind that carries a strange invitation to think. Sunlight rested across the floor without urgency. A cup of black coffee waited beside me, its warmth slowly dissolving into the air. The house stood still, holding that rare, fragile silence where thoughts finally feel audible. Those are the moments I often meet myself. The moments where life is not happening…
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The Colors I Cannot Always Name
Hey Readers, Happy week! Winter left so quietly that I did not notice the exact moment of its goodbye. One morning, the air felt softer, the light arrived earlier, and the sky seemed to stretch awake before the world was ready. The sunrise carried colors that did not simply appear but unfolded, like silk being gently pulled across the horizon. Shades blend into one another with no sharp lines,…
What Rain Must Feel
Hey readers, warm week to you all. Reading the title, you might pause for a moment and wonder if it is raining here. Interestingly, it is not. The sky is clear, the day ordinary, and yet rain is exactly what stayed in my thoughts. This reflection began in a very simple way. While turning the pages of my child’s geography textbook, I came across a chapter about rain and its types. The kind of…
Saint Valentinus Where Miracles Breathe Quietly
I have always been someone who believes in miracles. Not the loud, dramatic ones people often imagine, but the quieter kind. The ones that arrive gently, without spectacle, without drawing attention to themselves. The kind that settle into ordinary life and leave behind a feeling rather than an explanation. For me, each day itself feels like a blessing from the Lord, a small and living miracle…
What Now?
There are certain days we wait for with almost sacred patience. Days we imagine so vividly that they begin to feel larger than reality. We attach meaning to them, build silent expectations around them, and convince ourselves that when they finally arrive, something inside us will shift forever. These days become emotional landmarks long before they actually exist. We move through months guided…
What if your worth was never meant to be calculated? Today’s piece is a quiet reflection on value beyond money, beyond applause, beyond proof. It is for anyone who has ever looked at their empty hands and questioned their existence. Maybe the immeasurable thing you are searching for is already within you. Read: What is My Worth?
Just a Share
Long ago, I went searching for a Sacred Heart picture for my home altar. I searched for days and nights, but nothing felt right. A good one, to me, never meant perfection or cost. It simply had to speak to me. That is when I found an old vintage picture, the same one you see featured above. It was already softened by time. The colours were tired, the edges worn, and there was even a cut across…