Vendor Of Words!

[sharly13]

Some days arrive heavier than the rest. There’s no clear reason, no single moment to blame,yet somewhere deep inside, the reason quietly exists. It lingers in the chest, unspoken and unprocessed. The heart feels fragile, like it’s holding more than it was ever meant to carry.

On such days, detachment feels like the only safe place. Not out of coldness, but out of survival. Because when everything begins to feel overwhelming, distance becomes a form of protection.

There’s a strange kind of strength people talk about, the kind that comes from not being attached to anything or anyone. The kind where there is no fear of losing, because nothing is held too tightly. And maybe that’s true. Maybe that is strength. Or maybe it’s just a different kind of armor.

But what makes it harder is the weight of feeling too much. Absorbing the emotions of people around, carrying their worries as if they were one’s own. And then there’s the mind, restless, anxious, turning every small sensation into something bigger, something heavier. Health anxiety quietly taking over, blurring the line between what is real and what is feared.

It becomes an exhausting loop, feeling deeply, overthinking endlessly, and yet never quite being able to express or release any of it.

And perhaps the hardest part of all is this: knowing that this depth of feeling, this constant absorption of everything around, is something that may never be fully understood… even by the one living it.

[sharly13]

We are in that strange, silent season of life where some of us have outgrown entire versions of ourselves, while some are still tangled between what was and what is.

We have left behind people, habits, homes, even emotions, and built new lives from the ashes of our old ones.

We are all busy now.

We barely call our friends.

Festivals come and go, and though the lights still shine the same, something always feels different.

When we go back home, it looks like nothing has changed. The same streets, the same laughter, the same sweets, the same chaos. But deep down, we know it is not the same anymore, because we are not the same anymore.

Some people left because they had to. Their chapter in our story was meant to end. That does not make them bad. It just means their presence no longer fit our growth.

Then there were the ones whose absence felt like fresh air, the toxic ones, the ones we finally learned to let go of. And life bloomed again.

But the hardest ones are those silent friendships, the ones that faded without a fight.

No words, no blame, no closure. Just distance.

And yet, their space still exists in our hearts, untouched, unfilled, unspoken.

We wanted forever with them.

But forever quietly walked away.

Still, a part of me believes that if people are meant to stay, they somehow do, in some corner of time, in some shape of memory.

And yet, another part of me still believes in effort, that relationships need nurturing, not just destiny.

As I look around this Diwali, at the glowing streets, the diyas flickering in windows, and the air filled with warmth, I cannot help but wish that we all find the courage to reach out to those we once called ours.

May the lights of this festival not just brighten our homes, but also the dim corners of our hearts.

May this Diwali bring back the unsaid friendships, the unfinished stories, the people who were once a part of us.

And if not them, may it bring peace to the space they left behind.

Because sometimes, all we really need is one small spark of connection to light up the entire darkness within. 🪔✨

[sharly13]

When the Wells Begin to Speak

There are places where history sleeps quietly, and then there are places where history whispers, softly, insistently, through every stone, every courtyard, every breath of air. In Jodhpur, it is the wells that speak. And when they do, they do not murmur of water alone, but of her, the woman whose presence has shaped this city for centuries.

At first glance, the contrast feels striking. Women walk these streets with dupattas drawn gracefully across their foreheads, carrying the dignity of tradition in every step. Yet behind that veil lies a strength that has never once been silenced. The city may seem painted in shades of blue, but beneath that calm surface burns a flame, a voice that belongs to her.

She was never just a figure in a Rajputi poshak or a bride adorned with jewelry heavy enough to tell its own story. She was an empress of silence, a guardian of secrets, a witness to battles and betrayals. Every anklet that jingled against her feet carried the rhythm of resilience. Every glance she gave was sharper than a sword. Her palaces were not merely homes, they were stages where her quiet power unfolded in gestures too subtle for history books to capture.

Today, when you lean over a stepwell in the Blue City, you do not just see your reflection. You see hers, layered in centuries of fire and grace. The water looks serene, yet deep within it rests the unquenchable fire of women who endured, who dreamed, who commanded respect even in silence. That paradox is her beauty: gentle as water, fierce as flame.

And now, slowly, the city allows her to speak aloud. The lanes echo with her laughter, the paintings glow with her memory, the music carries her spirit, and the art brings her back to life. Every performance, every exhibition, every brushstroke in the Jodhpur Art Week becomes another syllable of her long-forgotten voice.

What makes this more than just an art festival is the realization it awakens: that she was never truly voiceless. Her stories were always here, etched into stone, embroidered into fabric, hidden in the rhythm of folk songs, resting patiently in the stillness of the wells. All that was needed was for us to listen.

Isn’t it beautiful? That the very city which once guarded her behind walls now opens its gates to let her spirit roam free? That the same streets which once demanded her silence now celebrate her voice? That her story, once buried deep like a secret beneath water, rises again like sunlight glimmering on its surface?

In Jodhpur, the Blue City, the wells still speak. And when they do, they remind us of a truth that cannot be erased, SHE was always here, and SHE will always rise.

[sharly13]

Tonight, India is wrapped in the mysterious embrace of the lunar eclipse. As the Earth casts its shadow over the glowing moon, a strange heaviness lingers in the air. Those who step outside feel it, those who remain within walls sense it, and even the stillness of the wind carries whispers of something beyond the ordinary.

Sitting inside a room where the moon remains hidden from sight, one can still feel the pull of this celestial drama. It is as though the walls cannot stop the vibrations, an unseen current passes through, unsettling the mind, stirring buried emotions, and awakening the spiritual nerve of the nation. The eclipse is not just in the sky; it is inside us, pressing upon our hearts, making us restless, contemplative, and aware of the energies that surround us.

Many describe this time as one of negativity, an atmosphere thick with shadow. In countless homes across India, lights have been dimmed, food remains untouched, and silence is broken only by the soft rhythm of mantras rising from lips seeking protection. The holy names of gods and goddesses echo through the night, filling spaces with vibrations of faith that attempt to counter the weight of darkness. Families gather around sacred lamps, beads of prayer slip through fingers, and in temples, conches and bells carry a sound that cuts through the veil of heaviness.

It is in moments like this that spirituality comes alive in its rawest form. The eclipse, with all its science and shadow, becomes a reminder of forces larger than our own. The ordinary is suspended, the routine is interrupted, and the unseen takes precedence. While the moon hides, humanity turns inward. The chants rise, not out of superstition, but out of an instinctive yearning to align with the divine, to remain untouched by the energies that swirl in the atmosphere.

The experience is unsettling, yet sacred. One cannot see the moon, but one feels the universe speaking. One cannot control the shadow, but one can surrender in prayer. Tonight is not just about the moon turning red in the sky, it is about the awakening of a collective consciousness, a realization that light and darkness are both a part of life, and that our strength lies in how we respond when the shadows fall.

And so, as the lunar eclipse unfolds, India chants, prays, and remembers, the moon may be hidden, but the spirit cannot be eclipsed.

[sharly13]

This year, my home felt strangely silent. The familiar echoes of “Ganpati Bappa Morya” that usually fill the walls during these ten sacred days were missing, leaving behind a silence that was louder than sound itself. For the first time in years, Bappa did not arrive to sit in our home, and the emptiness has been unbearable.

Last year, I welcomed Him with all my heart. A grand pandal stood tall, decorated with lights and colors, echoing with devotion. The fragrance of flowers lingered in every corner, and the 56 bhog was offered with trembling hands, filled with love and surrender. My home wasn’t just mine, it was His. Every day was a festival, every prayer a song, every meal a prasad.

But this year… this year was different. Life’s storms, mental struggles, family situations, stood like walls between me and my Bappa. My heart longed to bring Him home, yet my hands remained tied. Somewhere deep inside, I felt as though Bappa Himself whispered, “Last year you celebrated Me grandly, you offered Me everything you had. This year, gather your strength. I will come when you’re ready to welcome Me again with the same devotion and joy.”

And so, for ten days, I carried a weight I cannot put into words. The calendar moved from day one to day ten, but my spirit stood still. Each morning, I woke up and felt the absence, no idol to look at, no aarti to light, no prasad to prepare. My lips whispered His name, but my heart cried in silence.

Today, as I watched the visarjan videos, my chest tightened. The chants of “Ganpati Bappa Morya, Pudhchya Varshi Lavkar Ya” pierced me deeper than ever before. Because while the world bid Him farewell, I felt like I never even got to say hello. The colors of gulal, the sound of dhol, the smiling faces, they reminded me of what I lost this year. Tears welled up, not just from my eyes but from my soul.

People often say Ganpati is the remover of obstacles. But this year, I realized something greater, sometimes He becomes the obstacle Himself, stopping us from doing half-hearted devotion, asking us to pause, to gather, to rise stronger. Perhaps Bappa chose not to come home because He knows I need to heal, to rebuild, to prepare a space , not just in my house, but in my heart.

And yet, the ache remains. These ten days felt like an eternity of longing. Every lamp I didn’t light, every bhajan I didn’t sing, every flower I didn’t offer, they all became invisible offerings of pain, love, and yearning.

As I sit here, the visarjan songs still ringing in my ears, I whisper softly:

Bappa, I missed You. More than words, more than rituals, more than celebrations. Come back to me, whenever You choose. And until then, let this emptiness become my devotion, let this longing become my prayer.

Because even when You’re not here, You are everywhere.

And even when my hands couldn’t welcome You, my heart always did.

[sharly13]

Silent Distances: Mental Health After Marriage When Living Away from Your Partner

Marriage is often painted as a picture of togetherness two people building a home, sharing laughter across the same dinner table, finding comfort in each other’s presence after long days. But for many couples, reality doesn’t match this picture. Work commitments, family duties, financial challenges, or even education sometimes pull partners into different cities, or even countries. And then, marriage becomes a bond stretched across phone screens, video calls, and fleeting weekends.

On the surface, it looks manageable. After all, love is strong, communication is easy with technology, and we remind ourselves, “It’s temporary.” But inside, the heart quietly carries a different story.

The Loneliness That Echoes

The silence of an empty room after a long day can feel heavier than words can describe. A meal cooked, but eaten alone. A festival celebrated without the person you promised to celebrate every festival with. Nights spent staring at the phone, waiting for a goodnight text that sometimes comes late, sometimes doesn’t come at all.

This loneliness is not ordinary , it digs into the soul, making people question, “Am I really married if I live like I am single most of the time?” Such thoughts can spiral into emotional emptiness, anxiety, and even depression.

The Emotional Rollercoaster

Living away from a spouse often creates emotional extremes. There are days full of excitement , counting down to the next meeting, planning every detail of a short visit, holding on to every word in a phone call. And then there are the lows , when the waiting feels endless, when arguments over distance feel sharper, and when one partner’s stress cannot be fully understood by the other because they simply aren’t there to see it.

The heart becomes a pendulum, swinging between hope and heaviness.

Mental Health Challenges That Arise

• Anxiety and Overthinking: Distance often leaves space for doubts. Small delays in communication can create storms of insecurity.

• Sleep Disturbances: Longing for a partner’s presence can turn nights restless.

• Stress and Burnout: Managing daily life alone while carrying the weight of emotional absence can exhaust the mind and body.

• Depression: Prolonged separation may lead to a constant feeling of sadness, disconnection, and hopelessness.

The Silent Strength in Love

Yet, within all this pain, there is also resilience. Couples who survive distance learn a different kind of love. They learn that love is not only about holding hands but also about holding faith. They learn that marriage is not just about sharing a roof, but about sharing patience, understanding, and trust.

The longing becomes a teacher of appreciation. The absence makes presence more meaningful. Every hug feels like a homecoming. Every shared meal feels like a celebration.

The Heart’s Truth

Living away from a partner after marriage is not just a physical distance, it is a test of emotional endurance. It teaches couples how fragile, yet how strong, love can be. It shows that even when miles stretch in between, the heart quietly whispers, “You are not alone. We are in this together.”

Because sometimes, the most powerful form of love is not in the moments you spend together, but in the courage to wait, to endure, and to believe in a tomorrow where distance is no longer part of the story.

[sharly13]

Jaipur: A City That Remembers Me

There are places you visit and then forget. And then there are places that don’t forget you. Jaipur remembers me.

I don’t say that casually. I say it with the weight of dreams I didn’t dream in this life. With the ache of a heart that longs for palace walls I never lived in, not in this lifetime, at least.

A Pull That Won’t Let Go

I’ve traveled, lived, studied, worked. Yet somehow, no matter what I do or where I go, I feel Jaipur pulling me back like a thread from an old garment, something I once wore in another life.

Every time I walk through its arched gateways, sip chai near pink-washed walls, or pass the flag fluttering above Chandra Mahal, I feel the same inexplicable sense of homecoming.

And not the kind of home made of concrete and address proofs, but one made of echoes, incense, and déjà vu.

A Familiar Stranger

Jaipur isn’t new to me. It never was.

The first time I stood inside the City Palace, I didn’t feel like I was seeing something for the first time, I felt like I was remembering.

I walked past the Peacock Gate, and it was like something unlocked in my chest. A flutter. A catch in my breath. The kind of moment when time doesn’t pass, it folds.

I remember thinking, I’ve walked through this doorway before.

Not in this body. But in one that still lives inside my soul.

What Kind of Life Was It?

I don’t know for sure, not in the factual, Wikipedia-sourced way. But my heart knows. Maybe I was a poetess in a royal court.

Maybe I was a silent handmaid who lit lamps in marble corridors.

Or maybe I was a spiritual guide, someone who whispered mantras into the ears of the queens before sleep.

All I know is that this city knows me. And I know it. It calls to me with the voice of a forgotten lover, or an unfinished destiny.

And every time I answer that call, by visiting, writing, feeling, I feel more whole.

The Signs Are Everywhere

In the softness of early morning chai at Gulab Ji

In the crumbling walls of Amer Fort, where silence speaks louder than crowds

In the smell of temple smoke and ghee lamps

In the hidden corners of the palace where light falls just right

In my own tears, when I hear Rajasthani folk songs I’ve never heard before but know by heart

These are not just emotions , they are remembrances.

This isn’t tourism, this is reunion.

Why I Keep Coming Back

People ask me why I visit Jaipur so often.

Why I write about it like I’m in love.

Why I chase every chance to walk its alleys, learn its stories, or just be in its vibration.

I tell them the truth:

I didn’t choose Jaipur. Jaipur chose me.

Some karmic threads don’t break across lifetimes. Some cities don’t just exist on a map, they exist inside your bones. Jaipur is that for me.

A city I once belonged to. A city I still do.

Jaipur lives in me. Not as a destination, but as a dimension I return to, lifetime after lifetime.

And something tells me, I’m not done with it yet.

[sharly13]

Typed in Tiranga: The Rise of India’s Digital Army

In every corner of India, from bustling metros to remote villages, a quiet revolution is unfolding. It’s not fought with rifles or missiles, but with words, emotions, and unwavering love for the motherland. We are the keyboard warriors of India, a generation that doesn’t sit back when the tricolor is tested, a people who bleed in pixels and type in patriotism.

We are the ones who rise before the sun, not just to pray, but to read, share, and speak the truth when the nation’s dignity is under threat. We are the ones whose hearts skip a beat when we see a soldier at the border, and who write, tweet, post, and record not for fame, but because our spirit is Indian, and our soul belongs to Bharat.

Today, when tensions rise across borders and challenges grow within, every Indian has become a warrior in their own right. Some are editing videos that salute our forces, some are writing emotional poems in memory of our martyrs, some are sharing bold facts in debates, while others are simply reminding the world of India’s unmatched strength with a single tweet.

We don’t wear uniforms. But our weapon is truth. Our shield is unity. Our battlefield is digital, but the war is as real as it gets, the war for national pride, respect, and unwavering sovereignty.

We are not just writing comments. We are echoing the voice of 1.4 billion people.

To every citizen who types with tears in their eyes and pride in their chest, know this: You are as much a soldier as the one on the border. You’re the reason India stands tall, unshaken, unbreakable.

Jai Hind.

[sharly13]

There’s a strange stillness over Jodhpur these days.

Not the usual calm of lazy afternoons or the gentle hush of twilight over the forts.

This is the silence that sits heavy on our chests ,the kind that speaks without words.

In the old city, where blue walls have heard centuries of stories, even the wind feels hesitant. It brushes past the narrow lanes, as if afraid to disturb the unease tucked in every corner. The chaiwala at the end of the street, who once joked with every customer, now stares quietly at the boiling kettle, lost in thought. He’s not thinking about sales he’s thinking about what if.

We’re far from the border, but our hearts are pressed right against it.

Mothers press palms together tighter at the temple gates. Shopkeepers lower their radios when the news turns grim. No one says it out loud, but everyone is feeling the same thing, fear, pride, confusion… and a deep, aching love for this land.

You see, Jodhpur isn’t just a city of sandstone and stories.

It’s a living soul warm, fierce, tender.

And right now, that soul is hurting.

We’re not interested in who’s from which caste, who votes for whom, or who prays in what way. Not today. Today, we are simply Indian.

Worried. Wounded. Waiting.

Waiting for this storm to pass.

For the sky to return to its soft blue.

For the sound of temple bells and azan to once again rise together in the morning air, like they always have in this city.

And when that day comes, not if, when Jodhpur will breathe again. Not in fear, but in faith.

Because we know something that terror can never understand We are not divided by names, or castes, or colors.

We are held together by the dust of this land… and by the love we carry for it.

And that, no bullet can ever break.

[sharly13]

Jaipur: The City That Became My Home

They say there’s always a home away from home. I never believed in it. My roots run deep in Jodhpur, my true home, and no place had ever come close to giving me the same warmth. I had traveled to many cities, each with its own charm, but none had ever felt like mine—until one day, after marriage, I moved to Jaipur with my husband.

At first, Jaipur was just another city. Its pink walls, grand palaces, and bustling streets were beautiful, but they didn’t feel personal. And then, one visit to Govind Dev Ji Temple changed everything.

Finding Home in Devotion

Growing up in a Hindu household, I was always told that whenever we settle in a new city, the first thing we must do is visit its temples. So, fulfilling my duty, I went to a few temples around Jaipur. Govind Dev Ji Temple, nestled near City Palace, was the first. As soon as I stepped inside, something shifted. The air was thick with devotion, the chants echoed in my heart, and for the first time, Jaipur felt like home.

That visit led to many more. Tarkeshwar Mahadev Temple, sitting quietly in the heart of the city, became a place of solace. Moti Dungri Ganesh Temple, standing tall in the urban landscape, welcomed me like an old friend. Soon, visiting these temples became a ritual for us. Some weekends, some weekdays—we found ourselves drawn to them, as if the city itself was calling us back.

But the most special of them all was Akshaya Patra Temple, just a short walk from our home. My husband and I went there every single day, and the moment we stepped in, the vibrations of the Hare Krishna chants would surround us like a warm embrace. There was an indescribable peace in that temple—a stillness amidst the chaos of life. No matter how tiring the day had been, just sitting there, listening to the chants, felt like hitting reset. It became a part of our routine, a sacred time we spent together, and it filled our home with an unshakable positivity.

The People Who Became Family

Living away from family is never easy, but Jaipur never let us feel alone. We rented a cozy little apartment, and downstairs lived a kind-hearted family. The lady there would always remind us to visit the temple every morning and offer water to Shivling. It soon became a habit, something that anchored our days.

In her, I found a motherly figure. In the shopkeepers we saw every day, in the chaiwala around the corner who knew our usual order, and in the auto drivers who recognized us after a while, we found a sense of belonging. Jaipur wasn’t just a city anymore—it was our people, our home.

A City That Tastes Like Heaven

If you want to truly understand a place, taste its food. And Jaipur? Jaipur fed our souls.

Our food adventures started with Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar, right opposite Tarkeshwar Mahadev Temple. Their dal baati and thali were nothing short of divine—I still crave them as I write this. Then came Pali’s, tucked away in Raja Park, run by a warm-hearted Punjabi family. Their fresh, affordable meals became our comfort food.

And how can I forget Nandlal ke Chole Kulche? We would travel 14 km just to get a plate of those soft, flavor-packed kulchas. It was worth every mile.

The best South Indian food I’ve ever had wasn’t in South India—it was at Shravan Café, also in Raja Park. The place was always packed, and on weekends, we waited for 40 minutes just to get a table. But once the food arrived, every second of waiting felt justified.

And to end it all—Indian Falooda House in Bapu Bazar. That creamy, rich falooda was more than just dessert; it was the taste of Jaipur itself—sweet, indulgent, and unforgettable.

The Joy of Living Jaipur

Jaipur was more than just a place to live—it was an experience. We had a beautiful home that felt alive with laughter and warmth. Friends and family visited often, and taking them around the city became our favorite thing to do. I loved the pride in their eyes when they saw the city through my stories.

Shopping in Bapu Bazar was an adventure in itself. My proudest moment? Bargaining a pair of juttis down to ₹400 from ₹1000—a Jaipur street-shopping flex I’ll never stop talking about!

But life is unpredictable. One day, we had to pack up all these memories, fold them into a suitcase, and leave.

Leaving, But Never Letting Go

I still remember that morning. 4:00 AM, the city still asleep, our hearts heavy with goodbyes. As we drove to the railway station, I looked out at Jaipur one last time. My eyes welled up, and in those few moments, every memory replayed in my mind—the temples, the food, the streets, the people, the love.

As the train left the platform, I felt something inside me stay behind. Jaipur was no longer just a place I lived in. It had become a part of me.

Manifestation & Return

Life took my husband to another state, and I found myself back in Jodhpur. But my heart? It was still in Jaipur. I couldn’t let go. I searched for ways to return. I applied twice for a job at PDKF Store in City Palace, just for the chance to live there again. My fascination with Jaipur’s royal family became an obsession, and working for them turned into a dream.

And then, as if Jaipur had heard me, my manifestations worked. After a year of longing, I am finally going back—not just for a visit, but for an internship. I don’t know how long I’ll stay this time, but I do know one thing—Jaipur isn’t done with me yet.

Because when a city becomes your home, you always find your way back

P.S. I have always been deeply fascinated by Jaipur’s royal heritage and the incredible initiatives led by the royal family, especially PDKF. It would be an honor if my words could reach those who hold the legacy of this magnificent city. Jaipur has given me a second home, and I hope to contribute to its rich cultural narrative in any way I can.

[sharly13]

It's my 3 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[sharly13]

In the silence of an empty room, she lies,

On the right side of the bed, where memories rise.

His absence cuts deep, a wound unseen,

In the space where their love once had been.

Her heart aches with the weight of his absence,

As she longs for his touch, his comforting presence.

Imagining him beside her, asleep in the night,

She holds onto hope, her guiding light.

He, too, feels the void, the distance between,

Tears of longing, his silent unseen.

With courage, he left, chasing his dreams afar,

Leaving behind his love, his guiding star.

Their love, a flame that burns ever bright,

Through the trials of distance, they hold tight.

Prayers whispered to the heavens above,

For the day they reunite, in each other's love.

Alone, yet not truly apart,

Bound by love's unbreakable heart.

Together they'll weather life's stormy weather,

For love like theirs, lasts forever.

[sharly13]

In the silent echoes of her empty home, she sits, her heart aching with a loneliness that no words can soothe. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, her soul yearning for the touch of her husband's hand, the warmth of his embrace. Yet, he remains distant, miles away, and she is left to navigate the depths of her despair alone. In the depths of her solitude, she finds herself longing to escape, to vanish into the unknown where her pain can no longer find her. But in her darkest hours, she clings to the fragile hope that someday, somehow, the light will pierce through the shadows, and she will find solace in his arms once more.

[sharly13]

Alone in her thoughts and with an aching heart, Sarah navigates the turbulent waters of her mind as loneliness becomes her constant companion. With her husband miles away, chasing career aspirations, she finds herself adrift in a sea of memories and uncertainties. The once-familiar streets of her hometown now echo with the hollow footsteps of isolation, each corner a reminder of the connections she craves but can't seem to find. Her mental health suffers under the weight of solitude, the absence of companionship exacerbating the storm raging within her. Yet, amidst the darkness, a glimmer of hope flickers faintly, a whisper of resilience urging her to find solace in the embrace of her own strength.

[sharly13]

Having people express their opinions about the work we do as writers makes us feel quite exposed. It can be difficult to explain that being a writer is a full-time profession to those who think working from 9 to 5 every day is the norm. Writing for readers, for oneself, and as a freelancer are all part of your job as a writer. There are times when you feel as like you can write nothing, which is referred to as writer's block in the writing community. You don't get mentally prepared for speaking. Somewhere between the pages or sentences, you become stuck. People often assume you are jobless or unemployed because you frequently try to calm your mind by doing nothing. I never understand why we feel obligated to give them an explanation they will never comprehend. As a writer for the past ten years, I am aware of how challenging the craft of writing is. In order to create a masterpiece, you must keep your thoughts focused and to the point. However, I frequently struggle to explain to others how I make money. Making money is vital for writers, but I would say it is only a secondary consideration. The first step is to use your experience and expertise to influence or educate others. A writer wants to reach as many readers as possible since that is where they will truly succeed. For those who tend to refer to people who work hard and ruthlessly in the office as passionate or hardworking, this mindset can be extremely challenging to comprehend. Money, in my opinion, will come and go with the passage of time, but what endures is your name underneath the words you have written for countless readers to be impacted by and remain till the end of time for thousands of years. Because of this, I consider myself a proud and fortunate writer.

[sharly13]

Writing what you feel is a technique that not only sharpens your writing abilities but also allows your thoughts to escape from your mind so that you may share them in confidence with your journal. It helps you to relax and keeps a record of your feelings throughout time. Writing every day is not necessary, but writing about your emotions—whether they are ones that make you happy, sad, anxious, depressed, or excited—is much more significant. The feelings you're experiencing must be conveyed in your words.

When you write down your thoughts, there is no set format! Let your words naturally flow. The practice of keeping a diary is more akin to confiding in a friend, one to whom you can always go back and reread your own thoughts.

You don't always have someone with whom to converse in life. Consequently, your mental health may be impacted since your heart and head become heavy from holding everything inside. Writing serves as therapy during such times.

[sharly13]

Are you concerned about getting left out? This is the ongoing thought that occupies your mind on a daily basis. Because you are certain that you are not included in anything, it makes your mind a disorganised space where things cannot be processed in order. Let's say it involves a group of friends, a gathering, some business meetings, or even regular group talks. You may even feel as though you don't belong in your own family at times. I believe these emotions are novel, especially for those who enjoy social gatherings or being in close quarters with others. Your emotional well-being is impacted by this.

Although you won't feel depressed as a result of this feeling of exclusion, it will cause your mind to battle with other individuals or its own thoughts. No matter whether you live alone, keep yourself cheerful, I've always heard. Additionally, I've heard that the only outside factor that can make you happy is you! On this, I do agree. Although the human race is a social animal, you need other people in order to find happiness. A part of your existence has to be shared with friends. Your boring routine gains a spark and new vigour.

The relationships we have with each other and the people around us have been destroyed by millennial and Gen Z habits. People these days don't even need other people outside their social media platforms. And because of these tendencies, people like us who seek genuine social circle vanish.

We should modify our routines to reflect the fact that it's 2022 and not 2010, but what about our mental health? How do we maintain stability while being shut out? The only solution is to accept the situation and move on.