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I’ve been writing a lot lately — not here, but somewhere you can’t access my thoughts. In a little journal hidden under my bed.
I have an Organic Chemistry exam in 3 days and here I am writing, again.
It is 11.58pm where I am right now. I am at my tiny desk, in my bedroom — dim lights, “La Vie En Rose”…
Many years ago, I was doing a presentation at the university along with other classmates, and at the end, one of them told me he was really impressed by my talk.
Sometimes, a story doesn’t need to be about slaying dragons, donating thousands to charity, or going viral online. Some stories are quiet. Personal. Small. And yet, they stay with you forever—because they healed something inside you.
