After 12 long years, I’m back.
Back to the space where I once
found joy in reading and occasionally writing — the very reason this blog came
into being.
Never did I imagine that I would go twelve whole years without picking up a
book, let alone writing a single line. But that’s how life unfolds sometimes.
We get swept up in routines — managing home, juggling work, raising children —
and somewhere along the way, we lose touch with the things that once made us
feel alive. We forget our passions, push aside
our dreams, and neglect what brings us happiness. Worst of all, we stop taking time for ourselves.
Looking back, I realize how often we use “life” as an excuse — a convenient justification we offer to others and to ourselves. But the truth is, if something truly matters to us, we can always make time.
So here I am — trying again.
So, what’s changed in these twelve
years?
Quite a lot, actually. Life back
then felt simpler, quieter — lighter somehow.
One big reason? There was no
WhatsApp.
No constant pings. No endless
forwards. No group chats demanding attention at all hours. Back then, silence
wasn’t awkward — it was comforting. We had space to think, to feel, to simply be.
Today, we’re always “on,” always
connected — yet somehow, more disconnected from ourselves than ever before.
Technology brought convenience, yes, but it also brought noise. And in all that
noise, it became easy to lose touch with who we are and what really matters. But maybe it’s time to unplug, even
if just a little.
To go back — not in time, but in
intention.
To reclaim the quiet, and with it, the parts of ourselves we left behind.
Nothing is truly impossible when
the desire is real.
That’s what makes us human — our ability to hope, to strive, to begin again.
When we deeply want something, we don’t just wish for it — we try, we act,
we persist.
Because at the heart of it, our efforts reflect our intent. And even the
smallest step forward is proof that we haven’t given up.
