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I Started Journaling and It Quietly Changed Everything

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Why You Should Start Journaling Writing about your weekly progress can help a lot. A teacher once told my class: “Write your progress somewhere and ask yourself if you’ve actually grown.” I didn’t take it seriously at first, but I still started writing — and now it’s been two years . And honestly, the best part wasn’t the writing… It was reading my past self . What Makes Journaling Special? There are things in life we can’t share publicly — even with people we trust the most. But a journal is different: Nobody is judging you You can be completely honest You can write things you’ll never say out loud You can expose your weaknesses without fear It’s yours — private. How I Started I didn’t start journaling to “track progress” or “be productive.” I just wrote what was happening: How my tests went How people treated me Why they behaved a certain way What I was feeling It became a space where I could say anything — without being misunderstood. No one was judg...
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Let the Man Cry

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It’s okay to let it out. You’re safe here — with yourself, your thoughts, and your truth. As a man myself, I understand that society has presented men as someone who must be strong — both physically and mentally. We are seen as people who, when we cry, somehow become weak. And yes, sometimes others might treat us differently when we do. The society made me believe that crying makes you weak. I used to think that too… but now I realize it’s this very mentality that makes you weak.   But I guess crying doesn’t make you weak. It actually helps regulate your emotions — the feelings you’ve buried deep in your heavy heart. Some of us might have never cried in our lives, or maybe we’ve even forgotten how. But I guess… it’s time to let your tears fall in your safe space. And by safe space , I don’t mean another person. I mean yourself . Because you are the only one who has seen your ups and downs. You are the one who understands yourself the most. You are the one who will n...
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The Day My Bully Won and I Lost My Voice

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A few years back, when I was in secondary school, I used to get bullied a lot — and I don’t mean only mentally. I used to cry a lot. My days were miserable. I didn’t have the courage to fight or even say no. I was dependent on my friends, and they were supportive, but living like that wouldn’t change anything. You are just under someone’s umbrella.  I used to tell my parents, and they filed a complaint to the principal. One day, they called me to look into the matter. I didn’t know yet that my parents had filed a complaint against the bully, but I was happy. I went to the principal’s office — there were the doctor, the principal, and I guess the coordinator sitting there. I was sitting in front of them, and the bully student was sitting beside me. They said, “Your parents complained to us to look into the matter.” I was just sitting there silently. Then they said, out of nowhere, “Look at yourself — you look like a gangster! Your cuffs are folded, your collar button is open, and ...
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