Category: The Philosopher in Me

The Dysfunctional Democracy of My Body Every time I eat, a war erupts inside me. A civil war. It’s not about nutrition—it’s a power struggle.

Grief is a relentless force—one that crashes into life without warning and leaves behind an emptiness that words fail to fill. When a mother passes

I sit at my favorite café, staring at my cup of coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe, when in reality, it’s just

It began, fittingly, with the sound of silence. I was sitting on my couch one evening, eating dinner straight out of the pot—because why bother

It all started with a scroll. One innocent, thumb-driven flick through my social media feed. You know the drill: a perfect vacation snap, a meticulously

It began with a logo. I was staring at my sneakers—white with just a hint of a swoosh—and realized I wasn’t just wearing shoes. I

It started, as most profound realizations do, with something mundane. I was cleaning out an old drawer when I found a bundle of identity cards—each

It started with a dead plant. There it was, a brown, brittle mess in the corner of my room, a once-thriving little green thing that

It started, as it often does, with a mirror. I was brushing my teeth, half-distracted, when I caught my own reflection. Not the kind you

It began with a small act of kindness—or at least, that’s how I justified it. I held the door open for someone at a café,