I could live in hope

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Turning so old, so fucking old

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hello fans Its been 10 fucking years. When I wrote my first blog, I was terrified. First of getting trolled.   For context, back in college, if a girl messed up once, Facebook would mock her forever. A tag on the infamous Alia Bhatt in KWK calling Prithviraj Chauhan the President of India meme hung in my head like a warning. One mistake and your college life is ruined. Then  I was terrified of disappointing an acclaimed writer, who stumbles upon my blog and concludes ' she can't write ', for my choice of  words ? So I did what every insecure teenager would do in 2015, Googled simple words and replaced them with complex synonyms just to sound smart. There are 75 views in my 1st post in 10+ yrs. I don't do that anymore.  But don't even begin to confuse this with any improvement in my self esteem. So yeah, I am turning 30, yay! I don't know even 3 things to do before 30 ? I think I need to be 40 for figuring that and then my list will anyway be irrelevant because ...
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Necessary Adjustment

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Beirut collapses. LinkedIn refreshes. A 10 storey building falls in the capital; a 10% workforce reduction falls in your inbox. Lebanon buries 968. Iran counts 1,332 civilians. India queues for gas. The market dips. The app still works. Bridges over the Litani are blown out. Roads are opened by bombs. Roles are closed by AI. And somewhere, a man in a blazer calls all of this necessary adjustment. There, it is “strategy”. Here, it is “innovation”. Everywhere, someone with less control gets a shorter future. The poor lose homes, jobs, fuel, time, and sleep. The rich lose, at worst, a little confidence in the quarter. Then comes the statement. Then the panel discussion. Then the trailer with more fire in it. Then the applause. Amazing species, really: smart enough to build bunker busters, language models, and severance decks; still too primitive to stop feeding ordinary people to every machine we make. If this is progress, why does it keep arriving like bad news for the powerless?
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My journey with a mental health disorder

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When I was 5, I used to spend hours focusing at the window pane talking to myself, calling myself special, my mother used to tell me that mad people do that. I was always a notorious kid and knew no limits, not much has changed since childhood for I grew up thinking of this as my superpower. I was brought up in a middle class family by very ambitious parents. From childhood taking care of myself felt very foreign to me, and I always chose to challenge myself instead. Everything was going fine apart from the anxiety attacks, which became frequent during my teenage years. By then, I went through a series of inhumane events and I learnt that not everyone needs a reason to hurt someone. Day by day, I turned myself more and more into a recluse. I never had a lot of friends because I feared getting rejected by them for not being good enough. My mental disorder gained its gravity by my late teenage. I was always a sharp student, but having brought up in an environment of insane competition...
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