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I stand at the edge of philosophy’s abyss, and it calls to me. Its questions—vast as starlit skies, sharp as a blade—cut through the quiet of my mind. Why am I here? What is real? What holds meaning when the world feels like a fleeting shadow? Each inquiry is a thread, spiraling, twisting, weaving a

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”— Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)As I reflect on the words of my own heart poured into verse,

I woke to a shadow in my room, my own face staring back, twisted with a grin that wasn’t mine. It held my gun, accusing me: “You thought you could embody the essence of wrath’s?” Its words cut deep, naming “friends” I’d killed—lives I’d ended or betrayed in moments I can’t unmake. Jean-Paul Sartre’s words

I stand at the edge of philosophy’s abyss, and it calls to me. Its questions—vast as starlit skies, sharp as a blade—cut through the quiet of my mind. Why am I here? What is real? What holds meaning when the world feels like a fleeting shadow? Each inquiry is a thread, spiraling, twisting, weaving a

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”— Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)As I reflect on the words of my own heart poured into verse,

I woke to a shadow in my room, my own face staring back, twisted with a grin that wasn’t mine. It held my gun, accusing me: “You thought you could embody the essence of wrath’s?” Its words cut deep, naming “friends” I’d killed—lives I’d ended or betrayed in moments I can’t unmake. Jean-Paul Sartre’s words

I stand at the edge of philosophy’s abyss, and it calls to me. Its questions—vast as starlit skies, sharp as a blade—cut through the quiet of my mind. Why am I here? What is real? What holds meaning when the world feels like a fleeting shadow? Each inquiry is a thread, spiraling, twisting, weaving a

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”— Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)As I reflect on the words of my own heart poured into verse,

I woke to a shadow in my room, my own face staring back, twisted with a grin that wasn’t mine. It held my gun, accusing me: “You thought you could embody the essence of wrath’s?” Its words cut deep, naming “friends” I’d killed—lives I’d ended or betrayed in moments I can’t unmake. Jean-Paul Sartre’s words

I stand at the edge of philosophy’s abyss, and it calls to me. Its questions—vast as starlit skies, sharp as a blade—cut through the quiet of my mind. Why am I here? What is real? What holds meaning when the world feels like a fleeting shadow? Each inquiry is a thread, spiraling, twisting, weaving a

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”— Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)As I reflect on the words of my own heart poured into verse,

I woke to a shadow in my room, my own face staring back, twisted with a grin that wasn’t mine. It held my gun, accusing me: “You thought you could embody the essence of wrath’s?” Its words cut deep, naming “friends” I’d killed—lives I’d ended or betrayed in moments I can’t unmake. Jean-Paul Sartre’s words
When it’s time to unplug, my mind, body, and soul warn me in advance that it’s time to rest. During my resting hours, I have been writing constantly for the past few years, which has helped me ease my mind. I am an overthinker, which is a bad habit I really need to stop because it only leads to sabotaging my current and future self. Writing poems daily has helped ease my overthinking habits and, in the process, has sharpened my creativity and improved my writing skills.
The 5 Take Away.
Listening to Your Body: Recognize the importance of paying attention to your mind, body, and soul when they signal the need for rest.
The Therapeutic Power of Writing: Writing consistently can be a valuable tool for easing mental stress and finding peace during resting periods.
Overcoming Overthinking: Identifying overthinking as a harmful habit and understanding its negative impact on both present and future well-being.
Daily Creative Practice: Engaging in daily activities like writing poems can significantly reduce overthinking and promote mental clarity.
Skill Development Through Practice: Regular writing not only aids in mental relaxation but also sharpens creativity and enhances writing skills over time.