"Have I done enough today?" I tell myself, as I lay in bed staring at the popcorn ceiling, my hands tightly clasping my pillow.

It has never crossed my mind that I could be an influence to others.

While I have always been vocal about being there for people, especially those I truly care about, actually leaving a lasting impression on them seemed like a pipe dream.

I shift my body to my side, hands still holding onto my favorite checkered square pillow.

Did I say the right words? Have I been too nosy towards my friend who has been going through so much? Did I eat properly? I try to sleep, but the rummaging thoughts keep emerging on my mind, like playing an endless game of whack-a-mole.

I wonder whether anything I do, say, or think, helps people. Or if my being concerned has ever made matters worse.

But I have come to realize that maybe it's not just what l give everyone. It's also what I provide for myself. After all, I can't pour from an empty cup. Like plants that need constant care and nurturing, my ability to be there for the people I love hinges on prioritizing watering my own roots. Only by first tending my needs can I be fully present and effective in helping others.

I close my eyes as I embraced this awareness, loosening the tense grip I had on the cushion. I find peace in knowing even if I still feel uncertain at times, this new understanding is a step forward.

As such, the hope in my heart inhibits me from deflecting the idea that maybe, one day, I can make a difference - in someone's life and my own.

Okay, so i'm running out of special facts...... *cough*

Cy is insanely claustrophobic??????

Is that special enough??? *Crying*

I’ve always struggled to understand the concept of time. It slows down when things feel heavy, but speeds up during the happiest moments of my life.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve battled against the inherent busyness of everything—cars on congested roads, people rushing to avoid being late for work, entrepreneurs preparing to open for business. All of these seemed like they were moving at a pace I was always familiar with, dancing along these everyday nuances like clockwork.

Yet, even with this routine, I keep finding myself wanting to step back, like gasping for air even when my lungs still function as they should.

“When will life slow down for me?” I ask this question over and over.

Why do I still wrestle with seeing things the way they are? Why can’t I perfectly capture the gentle waves of the ocean or the rustling of tree leaves in a soft breeze?

But it’s then I realized, that all it takes is how I walk with grace while finding beauty even in the mundane and learning to love myself fully, even when life brings so much pain.

It’s the refreshing ambience of a quiet morning, the shared laughter with those I love, the comforting release of long walks under open skies, that slow my once fast-beating heart and calm the storm of my racing thoughts.

Maybe it's not about fixing everything at once, but about gently returning to myself, again and again, with kindness, with patience, and with peace. And maybe, that’s what a sacred pause really is—a moment where life softens, and I remember how to simply be.

I feel it again.

The pain of getting lost in thought while the heaviness of silence dawns upon me.

I’ve been here before — Where I walk through rooms thick with quiet. Where I stand in spaces with shadow-casters, muzzled to death.

Do you feel this, too?

The gravity of words never said? Or the way they echo unformed?

How unspoken truths are either left hollowed or gathered like dust. How even a single utterance might lay buried in the void.

I wonder, if I let them out, will I drown out the noise and make my voice finally heard? I’ve been here before. But I can’t let this be here forever.