My Opened Diary

Million of thoughts going through my head, daily struggle holding me by the neck. Not knowing whom to trust so I pour it all in - My Opened Diary.

[myopeneddiary]

The Lie of “New Me”

“A new year, a new me.” Truly, a hilariously dumb saying.

A quote upheld by millions across the planet, Carrying the ideology of becoming someone new While holding on to the same old habits. No change—just false hope.

Believing that if the same actions are done In slightly different steps, The outcome will magically change.

Jokes, right?

Some go the extra mile and reflect, Knowing the right things to do, The correct steps to take— But stumble under a power worse than peer pressure: Personal accountability and discipline.

At the first knockdown, disappointment sets in. Self-doubt creeps in as resolve is tested. Two voices echo—one on each shoulder:

The left shouts, “Get up, you’ve got this!” The right offers comfort: “You did your best.”

As self-belief weakens, Towels are thrown in. The match is called off. And old habits welcome them back With open arms and a warm embrace, Whispering, “You tried,” While hiding an evil smile.

The saying “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” Is true—for those who keep getting up.

For those who understand That to get better, You must try, and try again.

Yes, you will fail. Yes, you will fall—countless times. But how many times did you stand?

It’s you against you. No one else.

Ignore the opinions of those Who cannot see your vision. Believe in yourself. Trust the process. Push through the pain. Cry if you must— But never give up.

Because the only person Who can stop you Is you.

Happy New Year.

— The Lonely Poet

[myopeneddiary]

Seconds That Shape Us

52 weeks, 7 days, 24 hours 60 minutes, 60 seconds.

Although inverted, Every man can relate to this concept—

The only force that drives us without a license, That teaches us expecting no fees in return, And heals our deepest wounds Without holding a medical degree.

The entity that gives meaning to life, Makes sense of existence, And places value on peace.

The only factor wealth cannot buy, Eyes cannot see— Yet tells our stories louder Than stereo speakers ever could.

Within it, power is worthless, Knowledge foolish, And war senseless— Knowing that in it, Everyone has a final tick.

So why fight? Why argue? Why be sad?

Enjoy every moment you have. Cherish those who care for you. Appreciate those who invest in you.

No one can predict—

Time.

— The Lonely Poet

[myopeneddiary]

What We Chase

Joy, peace, happiness, and love—The list of things people chase,To name a few.

To be honest,No other pursuit holds a candle to these.Life’s decisions are navigated by them.From sunrise to its set,We step out as hunters,In quest of the Big Four (4).

Knowing the heart of man is wicked and greedy,Thoughts of the “best route” are sown—For not everyone likes the hunt.They say minds become filled with delusion.So they arm themselves not for the hunt,But for cunning.

Eyes filled with desperation,The hard work of the innocent is snatched.The kind are taken advantage of,Loved ones lost,Forgetting that we are all human.

The only blessed man with wisdom once said:“Anything gotten in haste will not be appreciatedAnd will be squandered easily.”

With no work put in, emptiness fills their hearts,As desire becomes endless.They mistake peace for pleasure,Laughter for happiness,Companionship for love,And wealth for joy.

As the emptiness grows,So do their ill thoughts—What was once a seedNow nurtured into a forest.Its roots sink into fertile ground,Leading to their demise.

On taking their last steps,Only then do they realize the hurt they have caused.People filled with pain and anguish,The hardship of manyBorn from the self-centered desires of one.

Destinies of future great men lostTo false ambition.But it is too late to erase the painFrom the hearts of their victims.

Knowing vengeful prayersFall on listening ears of the almighty,They drop to their knees,Pleading for their kin—Fearful that the weight of karmaWill fall on their innocent.

Now their desperate eyes are clear.Filled like water banks to it's brim,As a single tear slowly whispers down.Knowing it will never be enough,As the cries of the fallenOverpower their own.

The ironic realization dawns:As the world is round,So is karma.And the uncertainty of the futureWill always balance it out.

So be kind to those you see.Be happy with those who are happy,Knowing—Yours is coming.

— The Lonely Poet -

[myopeneddiary]

I miss the days

Are memories a curse or a blessing? We hold on to things we should… and things we shouldn’t. Actions that build us, And actions that break us. Some fill us with nostalgia, While others sink heavily into the gut.

Like a lens, memories are the keys to our souls. The joy a parent feels when their child graduates— A flashback to when that child was fragile, Dependent on them for everything. Every sacrifice now brings peace. Sleepless nights with a crying baby, Late hours helping with assignments, Urgent hospital trips, and impromptu football matches— All done just to keep them healthy And ensure their smile never faded. Now the parent sits with pride and teary eyes, Witnessing the growth of their own. Thinking quietly to themselves, I miss the days…

But when the heart shatters on the hard surface, The opposite becomes true. The mirror reveals empty spaces Where a familiar face should be. Joyful news becomes short-lived When the one you want to call is gone. Dance floors once held four happy feet— Now two are missing. Emptiness deepens with each breath. Mental images of old smiles turn your own upside down. Every action triggers a flashback, a panic attack— Like reaching for the stars But heaven won’t let you in. Knowing you were once happy, Yet the memory that brought peace now brings anxiety. Your mind whispers I miss you on repeat, But your lips stay shut, For the feeling may not be mutual. Now you think quietly to yourself, I miss the days…

A blessing or a curse— Should we hold on or should we let go? The future is unknown, Yet memories can heal some And bring joy to others. Still, the future holds no meaning without Memories.

— The Lonely Poet

[myopeneddiary]

The Marathon of Mortals

The journey of life is fascinating. Each person walks with a different destiny, Yet the goal remains the same. Some thrive while others struggle, But still, the race goes on.

Ironic how the wisest man who ever lived declared That the end of this journey Is vanity. Yet despite this knowledge, the race continues. Those who assumed it to be a sprint Fall exhausted along the wayside. The unfit for the marathon count their steps, The strong compete with one another, While the cunning search for alternative routes.

Allies and foes are formed along the way As the competition intensifies. Resolvable disputes become mountains, For greed and self-centered thoughts block the ears, Leading to tragedies that cut innocent athletes’ journeys short. Meanwhile, the cunning—trying to reenter the race and take the lead— Are stopped in their tracks By karma, the perfect official.

And in the end, time— The only true common denominator— Steps forward To pull the final trigger for all.

Confirming all is vanity

So, cherish everyone you meet. Spend time with those you love and who loves you. Appreciate every presence, And value every conversation and connection, Until your own time or theirs comes.

— The Lonely Poet

[myopeneddiary]

The Lens of Love

What Is Love?

The concept of love is crazy. A thing people call blind, crazy, a universal weakness — and the greatest strength.

Just ironic. How irresponsible actions look responsible. The irrational made rational. The senseless made sensible — When seen through the lens of love.

The only phenomenon that has no explanation. What is love?

A concept so crazy, yet so deep. A whole day — Valentine’s Day — dedicated to it. I’m puzzled how something can be exalted yet indescribable, Felt but not understood.

How can two strangers, From different ethnicities, raised on different continents, Some call it destiny, some call it fate, Yet both planes land in the same place?

They meet at a freshers’ party. At first glance, they know: he or she is meant for them. No conversation needed—yet they know. A smile ends each sentence. Freedom in every syllable pronounced. Walls drop. Guards fall.

Like they have met before — In another life, perhaps.

Down the line, a promise of forever is professed. Mysterious. Don’t you think?

Or is it just me? Honestly, I don’t know. I believe no one can fully understand this phenomenon.

But — Without love, life is meaningless.

[myopeneddiary]

What Should I Do?

Regrets. Betrayal.

The emotions I feel As I hold your hands.

Replaying in my mind The tattoo shown to me—by another.

Hmm.

Disloyalty whispers with every laugh, Even though I know the fault is not yours. I should have known better.

Flashes of the past replay, (Though I was absent then). A beautiful lady and a handsome man, So in love, newborn babies were jealous. The world’s spotlight shone at its peak upon them.

But arguments arose, words were said, And suddenly, the curtains closed.

On my shoulders— The tears of a broken friend. She regretted the decisions made, Wishing on every shooting star For your return, Clutching forever, the tattoo etched on her hand.

But two years later, fate played its trick. I met a wonder, sculpted like the gods. A miracle. In you, I saw my perfect match. Gravity itself was powerless to this pull.

My smile incomplete without yours in the frame. Yet unknown to me— The promised tattoo was you.

Now I’m stuck Between a rock and a hard place. The man I love And the friend I love.

Should I put the past behind me? But all I see is her In the back of my mind.

Every kiss breaks me, Destroys my confidence— Though I know you love me.

Alone, I sit in my room, Wishing this cup would pass me. But knowing it won’t.

So here I am, Looking to the stars, asking—

What should I do?

[myopeneddiary]

When Perfection Met You

I am a man filled with pride, Known for making few—if any—mistakes. I have conquered every opposition, Completed every challenge, Destroyed every obstacle life could offer.

Confidence on max. Composure unmatched. On top of the world. Just me, myself, and I. (Life always has a Plan B.)

On the verge of perfection, The matters of the heart revealed themselves— The moment I saw you.

My confidence deserted me. Composure flew out the window. Aura meter dropped from +1000 to –1000.

Palms sweating. Lips dry. Hair messy. Looking unto Jah (Jehovah) for courage.

I took a step forward, Heart racing with each one, Unsure of myself.

The moment of truth arrived. All my “game” vanished. All I had was: “Hi.”

In that moment, I knew— I had begun the most important conversation of my life.

Captivated by every word, Each syllable pulled me closer. Time froze in your presence. Its meaning disappeared.

For once, I listened to my heart instead of my mind.

With every day, we grew closer: Strangers to acquaintances. Acquaintances to friends. Friends to partners.

But it’s still not enough.

So, can I ask— Will you be: The Lois to my Superman, Pepper Potts to my Iron Man, Mary Jane to my Spider-Man, The Bonnie to my Clyde, My ride or die, My partner to the very end— In this life and the next? Now I know perfection starts and ends

-With you-

So… what will you say?

[myopeneddiary]

Rules Were Made to Break for You

Rules, Regulations, and You

Rules, rules… hmmm… rules. Laws made to govern us. Ancestors created them. Parents honored them. But they never met you.

The phrase “rules are meant to be broken” Must have been born from your ancestry— And I see you:

A beauty so refined, A smile more pure than gold, With light coffee-brown eyes That no soul would dare trade for the soul stone.

What are rules compared to you? I, a humble and patriotic citizen, Wear medals on my chest, Symbols of my loyalty and diligence in upholding the law.

Then I saw you.

Now, The only laws I obey are the ones you make. My head floats above the clouds With every conversation— My willingness to make every mistake, To be wrong in the right way.

Am I hypnotized? I don’t recognize myself anymore. Is this how Adam felt When Eve offered him the forbidden apple?

My body weakens with every touch. I try to run— But what’s the point? All roads end with you.

Caught in the trap of desire, Each kiss sinks me deeper— A bittersweet feeling, Knowing I’m trapped, twisted, tangled.

But then comes the whisper in my ear: “You know you love this.”

I ask for help without extending my hand, Because deep down, I want to drown in this feeling.

Not even my medals, loyalty, or fame can save me now. They lose their value When desire has you in its hold.

The rules get broken. Regulations become pointless. Because there is only space for one.

—YOU—

[myopeneddiary]

5 posts!

[myopeneddiary]

The Villain in the Mirror

Who’s a Villain?

The antagonist in everyone’s movie— Or simply the opposition to the imperfect exalted figure we call a "hero".

The exaggeration of a favored person, Framed to match our savior in the story of life. And when they fail—or become human— The fans immediately turn their backs. “On to the next,” they say.

The fair nature of the life we live in: The concept of ups and downs, Offended and offender, Victim and accuser— A flawed concept. One depends entirely on the other for its value.

What is a knight without war? An artist without a canvas? A hero without a villain?

Unlike the other scenarios, The identity of a villain lies in the hands of perspective— The only phenomenon that varies more than love. As formless as water, Yet as unstable as emotion.

So what is life without this? Meaningless, right?

Flawed.

Let’s talk.

What is good without evil? What is right without wrong? Where’s the left without the right?

“It’s all imagination,” they say. Right?

Then why was Thanos the villain? A man with a plan to save humanity from overpopulation— An issue most nations still complain about.

The end justifies the means, right? Yet Tony Stark was the savior.

Perspective, once again.

Could we be the actual villains? Holding people to unimaginably high standards— Standards we can’t even uphold ourselves?

So my question is:

—ARE VILLAINS ALSO VICTIMS?—

[myopeneddiary]

When I Knew It Was Love

In the midst of life’s storm, I found my peace— Not in the solitude of self, Nor in the fantasy of books, But in your warm embrace.

I never believed in fate, Until life pulled me out of doubt And into your kind heart.

In your eyes, I see comfort and calm. Every word from your lips— A grand piano masterpiece. By your side, I’m liberated: I walk without touching the floor, I feel warmth without a coat, I’m drowning—without H₂O. Confused, yet I fully understand what’s going on.

They say, “The grass isn’t greener on the other side,” But clearly, they never spent a moment in your arms. The warmth of your presence, The beat of your heart syncing with mine— In every hug.

I can’t remember how the storms of life feel anymore. I’ve finally found my peace. My safe space. A confidant. My partner in crime— Bonnie and Clyde could never hold a candle to us.

Honestly, this is crazy. Love is crazy. But I’d sacrifice my sanity if that’s what it takes.

How did I know I loved you, you ask?

It was the moment I saw you Encapsulating me in your caring aura. With each word, I fell deeper. With each sentence, I was more willing to give myself. I knew I was yours.

Not just your friend— But your partner.

And you...

My special one.

[myopeneddiary]

Was I Really the Villain

Was I Really the Villain?

We just got too perfect too soon—two young children entangled within love’s genius trap. Reality hits when the thought of forever hits, and everyone retires to their tents… …but I was outside, under the rain, building ours, while still holding an umbrella over your head.

The entirety of myself was poured into the promise we made— Eyes clouded by love, heart racing at 1000 bps—not from anxiety, but from excitement. Not for what was, or what is, but for what will be. The prospect of the future looked so captivating, I rode into the world not with an army— …but like the last samurai. Giving up was never on the agenda. Funny how the idea of fighting for someone or something can make the craziest thoughts feel like amazing ideas.

Willingness to do things for you was a mere understatement. So lost in the war, so focused on designing the vision of us— You tend to forget that help is even an option.

Now, people call this stupidity. Some call it pride, ego, or confidence. (So many opinions.) But what if you’ve been so used to protecting someone, fighting for them, being their backup plan— That you forget they can fight for themselves… or even fight beside you?

(Perspective is always funny. Let’s flip this.)

In her eyes, it went from: "I’ve found someone willing to fight my battles, carry my load and baggage without a second thought. A protector."

Thoughts racing through her mind: “Indeed, I have found my knight in shining armor.”

She watches as he willingly struts on his horse into a battlefield to fight an unwinnable fight. Her heart full of hope, knowing she is his only motivation, hope, present, and future. It keeps her grounded. She rejoices each day he returns alive—though some days are lonelier than others.

But life and fate decide to put them to the test. They design an epic plot twist—unforeseen, one not even the world’s best writer could’ve imagined.

Now the knight is down on his last legs— Hit with more arrows than his armor could carry, grazed by multiple armor-piercing rounds.

What can he do? So used to being the fighter, he carries on. Fighting both his own battles and the one he’s building for them. Wearing a happy face despite the injuries, He limps off to battle every day. She notices from a distance—but never asks what’s going on. She feels avoided.

Back-and-forth happen. She says things, tells him of the distance— (In the language only they understood) …but never asks, “Are you injured?” Never checks beneath his armor.

And he—so fixated on the battle and the unforeseen circumstances— Forgets to translate her words from plain text to their encrypted language. The fear of looking weak consumes him. The fear of loneliness clouds her perception of her own importance to him.

Life, never siding with anyone, says: “This was expected.”

But Fate, who always rooted for them, whispers: “It’s not over.”

Life reminds Fate: “Love is the weakest pillar in a relationship.” But adds: “If she waits on him, and he trusts her strength enough to open up, they will be forever.” (All the while knowing… she’s packing her bags, evaluating one year of joy against two days of unrest.)

Though it's a cheat, Fate intervenes—gives the knight a stroke of fortune: A Day with no injuries.

He runs home to pour out his heart… Only to find an empty house, And a letter that says: “It’s done.”

Now, the fight feels pointless. The construction meant for two—wasted. But knowing fate is what we make of it, He still fights each day, Still builds the house, In hope of her return.

Full of regret, he asks: “Was I really the villain?”

Was he?

Or is life just a rollercoaster?

Would love to hear your opinion. 😊

[myopeneddiary]

The Paradox of Time

What is Time?

Is it 1 year, 52 weeks, 365 days, 24 hours, 60 minutes, or 60 seconds?

What is time?

An illusion—something close, yet far.

Hmm, what is time?

A finite but infinite being. An entity that is, was, and is yet to come. What you look back to, look at, and look forward to. A constant loop that changes change.

Is it emotion? Because it’s the only friend you hate to love but love to hate—despite the betrayals and heartbreak. At the same time, it whispers encouragement, picks you up when you are down, and gives medicine to every aspect of the soul.

A frenemy—the one who’s frequently planning against you, but the only one you cannot afford not to love. Such a toxic relationship. He knows the real you and the you you aspire to be. Your world revolves around him, yet he turns his back on you at the last moment—when you slip.

Old men laugh when a young man like me says, “I don’t have time,” while they wish upon the stars for more of it. The only one that makes a rich man poor, and a poor man rich.

So, can I say Time is justice?

If all things get better with time, and errors are corrected, then why the judicial system? To hasten judgment? To hide the truth? Vengeance? Or to feel power in your hands?

In the lens of time, everything is pointless… except LOVE— a phenomenon, the only construct that gives time meaning. (Puzzled, I am.)

Is time co-dependent on love?

Time has many perspectives. To understand it all is like dipping my head into an ocean seeking oxygen— no study or exercise can give you the answer. (Wow, this is taking time… just a dad joke.)

For me, time is: love, hatred, peace, wrath, envy, forgiveness, joy, despair.

TIME IS LIFE.

[myopeneddiary]

The Weight of What Was

Feels like I can't breathe, my chest tightens, my heart beats faster, a sharp pain through my chest and tears in my eyes but still a smile on my face. Promises of forever made, a life to be spent together. In secret, plans were being made for a pleasant surprise cementing the goal engraved in stone and tattooed in our hearts of all we presumed. A hard time of distress and unfortunate events, communication felt hard at the moment but assurances were made. Starts the loss of a partner, unknown to the struggling one who finally finds his feet, filled with joy, happiness, and hope to return home to rejoice with his partner but was met with a cold response. Promises carved in stone erased like pencils to paper, steady hands began to shake, hearts that life couldn't melt finally met their larva in words. Dayum, isn't life a bittersweet experience. What gave you peace and comfort causes pain and despair. Love and hurt so perfect together but ironic as they are so apart. I say 'it hurts too much to love the person you would've died for' is different from 'I love someone so much it hurts!' Almost half a decade lost in 2 months, one falls out of love while the other chases whom they loved. Once you were peace of mind, now you're a disturbance. Space now needed constantly breaks the heart of him who has lost not just his love but his best friend and most trusted confidant. Speaking of irony, it's interesting how the evil things of life are always easier than the good ones like 'it's easier to lie than it is to tell the truth' or how 'it's easier to take a shortcut than it is to stay the course' and how 'Falling in love is easier than healing.' Does that mean love is evil, or am I just hurt so much that love seems evil (chuckles, the love and hurt combo just hits different).

Would like to know your take on Love .