Gayathri N S

There’s a strange kind of loneliness that comes with being a brutally honest and simple person in a world that often seems to thrive on pretense, filters, and façades. I’ve always found it difficult to strike a conversation with people who come off as fake or wear an air of superiority like a fashion accessory. The moment I sense insincerity or an attitude that screams “I’m better than you,” I quietly retreat into my shell. It’s not out of fear, but out of discomfort — the kind that makes you want to leave a room even before you’ve entered it fully. Being socially awkward doesn’t mean I don’t crave connection. On the contrary, I yearn for it — deep, genuine, uncomplicated connection. But my kind of connection isn’t found in crowded rooms, loud parties, or social niceties. It’s found in quiet honesty, shared vulnerabilities, and people who are comfortable with silence as much as they are with words. Over the years, I’ve become cautious, almost skeptical, about making new friends. My cir...

As I sit down to write this, I can’t help but take a deep breath and acknowledge something simple, yet profound — I am grateful. Deeply, truly grateful. For the life I live, the people who love me, the experiences that have shaped me, and the countless blessings that silently surround me every day. But being grateful doesn’t mean I’m always at peace. I’m 31 years old. And somewhere between celebrating birthdays with cake and laughter, and carrying the weight of silent midnights filled with worry, I find myself wrestling with questions that don’t have easy answers. “Am I on the right path?” “Will I ever feel successful?” “When will I feel like I have arrived?” “Will I be a good mother someday?” “Is there enough time?” These thoughts creep in more often than I’d like to admit. Some days, they whisper. On others, they scream. I look around and see people achieving great things, checking boxes — promotions, babies, dream vacations, new homes. And I wonder if I’m falling behind, if I’m miss...