I never dreamt to end my dream of writing in this blog this soon.

But,everything got a expiry date no matter what,the same goes with my bonding with this blog and the person behind this blog,who made my every dream come true.

I heard a true companionship changes a person like other,but never experienced it in my life, even now.

As,my 7yrs of frienemyship could not turn this idiot shaina into a stone hearted one even now.

The one who teached me to live for myself,left me because he thinks i only care about myself more than others,more than him.

If he had scolded me,pushed me away like always then i might be chasing him in every app,shouting apologies like always.......but this time something changed in me.

I didn't shout apology,i didn't chase him but i made sure i never reach him ever,no matter what

I cried silently but made sure this time nothing in me shall bother him again.

I cried not because he kicked me out of his life,but knowing how hurt he is because of me.

So,i took a hard decision not just for me but for the happiness,peace-filled life of his.

I blocked him every where,deleted his contacts,trying my best to move as far as i can....away from him.

I only want him to be part of my beautiful memories,the only memories i got to rewind in my life.

As,my last post on this blog,i want to share something close to my heart.

For seven long years, the little Rain Cloud and the Sprout shared the same patch of the valley. 

Their bond was anything but simple; it was a wild, unpredictable landscape of seasons. 

In the beginning, they were inseparable. 

The Cloud, vibrant and full of energy, would roll in with refreshing showers, and the Sprout would stretch its green leaves toward the sky, laughing in the mist. 

The Cloud taught the Sprout how to find its own strength, urging it to grow deep roots so it could stand tall even when the fierce valley winds howled. 

But their friendship was a stormy one.

 They were opposites who collided as often as they comforted. 

There were seasons of bitter frost where the Cloud grew heavy and dark, blocking out the sun, and the Sprout would shut its leaves tight in frustration. 

They had loud, thundering arguments that echoed across the hills. 

The Cloud would flash with lightning, and the Sprout would stubborn its roots into the dirt, refusing to bend. 

Yet, no matter how fierce the tempest, they always survived it.

 The Cloud would inevitably return with a soft, apologetic mist, and the Sprout would open its leaves again, forgiving the darkness. 

For seven years, everyone in the valley thought their bond was unbreakable—tempered by the very storms they created. 

Then came the year of the Great Drought, followed by a relentless monsoon.

 The Cloud, trying desperately to protect the Sprout, poured everything it had into the soil.

 It rained day and night, thinking this was what the Sprout needed to survive. 

But one afternoon, through a break in its own fog, the Cloud looked down closely. 

The Sprout wasn’t laughing anymore. 

Its leaves were heavy, its stems were bruised, and the soil beneath it was drowning. 

In trying to hold on tightly and provide protection, the Cloud’s constant presence had become an overwhelming weight. 

The Sprout looked exhausted, drained by the perpetual cycle of storm and rescue. 

In the past, a moment like this would have triggered a loud argument. 

The Cloud would have thundered, the Sprout would have cried out, and they would have chased each other through another cycle of apologies. 

But this time, a quiet stillness settled over the Cloud. 

It looked at the weary Sprout and realized a painful truth: its rains were no longer nurturing; they were breaking the very thing it loved.

 The Sprout deserved a quiet, peaceful sky to simply breathe and heal. 

The Cloud did not flash its lightning. 

It did not shout.

Instead, it made a silent, heavy choice. 

With a heavy heart, the Cloud gathered its remaining mist and began to drift away. 

It pulled its shadows off the valley floor, exposing the soil to the open air.

 It moved slowly over the distant, jagged peaks of the mountains, completely removing itself from the Sprout's horizon. 

It severed its ties to the valley, ensuring it could never accidentally drift back to cause another storm. 

From the far side of the mountain, the Cloud wept a quiet, silent rain into an isolated river.

It was a painful departure, but as it looked back one last time, it saw the valley sky clear into a beautiful, uninterrupted blue. 

The sun warmed the soil, and the Sprout finally stood in perfect peace, breathing freely.

The Moral: 

True companionship changes us forever, leaving marks that time cannot erase.

 Yet, the ultimate test of love is not how long we fight to stay, but having the selfless courage to walk away when our presence costs the other person their peace.

Thanks everyone for being part of this beautiful journey of my blog.🥂

G- Goodbye

S - Stay Positive,Healthy and Happy

T- Take Care

By,

Shaina...

When people first met Arun, they often misread him.

He was the kind of person who did not fill silence just to prove he belonged in it.

He did not chase every invitation, did not laugh at jokes he did not find funny, and did not build his life around being seen by everyone else.

He moved through the world with a calmness that many people confused for dullness. 

Some called him quiet. Some called him reserved. 

A few, unkindly, called him BORING.

Arun heard it all.

He heard it at family gatherings when relatives asked why he did not “go out more,” as if going out was the only sign that a life was being lived. 

He heard it from former classmates who had turned their evenings into endless noise, while he chose books, long walks, and the company of his own thoughts. 

He heard it in small, careless remarks from people who believed that a person had to be loud to be interesting, always surrounded to be valuable, always performing to be worthy.

At first, those comments troubled him. 

He would return home and look at himself in the mirror, wondering if perhaps they were right. 

Perhaps he was missing something essential.

Perhaps the reason he sat comfortably alone while others seemed to crave constant attention was because something in him was incomplete.

He tried, for a while, to become what others expected.

He forced himself into crowded places where the music was too loud and the conversations too shallow. 

He stayed at gatherings long after he felt drained, nodding, smiling, pretending to enjoy himself.

He answered messages instantly because he thought availability made him likable.

He posted pictures online, hoping that visibility would translate into belonging.

 But each attempt left him feeling strangely hollow, like an actor reciting lines from a play he had never agreed to perform.

The more he tried to fit in, the more disconnected he became from himself.

Then came the year everything shifted.

It did not arrive with fireworks or dramatic warnings. 

It arrived quietly, the way many important things do. 

Arun lost his job when the company downsized. 

At first, he was stunned. 

He had not imagined that the stable, ordinary rhythm of his life could suddenly break.

The days ahead looked wide and uncertain, and for a moment, panic sat heavily on his chest.

Friends called at first.

They said things like,

 “Don’t worry, you’ll bounce back,” and 

“You should come out tonight, you need to distract yourself.” 

Their kindness was real, but brief. 

As the weeks passed, their calls slowed.

Their invitations became less frequent. 

His name drifted out of conversations. 

He was not abandoned in a dramatic way; 

he was simply forgotten in the everyday rush of other people’s lives.

And that silence, 

strange as it was,

 became a teacher.

Arun woke up one morning and realized that no one was coming to rescue him.

 No one was going to organize his life, solve his problems, or hand him a future wrapped neatly in certainty. 

If he wanted to survive this season, he would have to do it himself. 

So he began.

He woke early each morning, not because anyone was watching, but because he needed structure. 

He studied skills his job had never required him to learn. 

He watched tutorials, read articles, took notes, practiced, failed, and tried again. 

He began cooking for himself instead of relying on expensive takeout. 

He fixed the broken drawer in his kitchen, changed the bulb in the hallway, and learned how to mend a torn shirt.

Small things, perhaps, but they taught him a quiet kind of confidence.

He discovered that self-sufficiency was not loneliness. 

It was not exile.

 It was competence. 

It was knowing that even when life turned its back for a while, he could still stand. He could still build. 

He could still become.

The days turned into months, and the months began to reshape him.

Where he had once begged for inclusion, he now valued peace.

Where he had once confused attention with affection, he now understood that not everyone who noticed him understood him. 

He stopped asking whether he was interesting enough for everyone else and started asking whether his life made sense to him. 

That question changed everything.

Arun began to notice how much time people spent fearing solitude, as though being alone meant being empty.

 But he found the opposite to be true. 

Alone, he could hear his own thoughts clearly. 

Alone, he could tell the difference between his desires and the expectations of others.

 Alone, he could repair the scattered pieces of himself without interruption.

He started running in the early mornings, when the roads were still quiet and the sky was only beginning to wake. 

At first, he could barely manage a few blocks. His lungs burned. 

His legs resisted. 

But gradually, he grew stronger. 

The discipline of running taught him something no lecture ever had: progress is not always dramatic, but it is always real.

He took walks at dusk and observed the world in a way he had never allowed himself before.

The changing colors of the sky. 

The old man feeding pigeons near the park. 

The woman watering plants on her balcony every evening. 

The children racing each other down narrow lanes. 

Life, he realized, was never boring. 

It was only that many people were too distracted to notice its depth.

And then, almost without warning, something curious happened.

People began to return.

An old colleague asked for his help with a project. 

A neighbor, who had once barely nodded at him, now stopped to talk for long minutes about books and weather and grief. 

A friend he had not heard from in nearly a year reached out and said, “You seem different now. Calmer. Stronger.”

Arun smiled, but he did not rush to explain himself. 

He knew the truth now: he had not become different because people returned.

He had become different because he had learned not to need them in order to be whole.

His life was not loud, but it was full.

He had work he cared about.

He had routines that grounded him. 

He had a home he knew how to maintain.

He had interests, discipline, and a kind of inner steadiness that no crowd could give and no crowd could take away.

He could spend an evening alone without feeling abandoned. 

He could sit with his thoughts without fearing them. 

He could walk into a room without begging it to define him.

And that was the moment everything became clear.

The same people who once called him boring were now trying to understand his peace. 

They saw that he did not depend on constant company to feel alive. 

They saw that he did not need to announce his worth.

 He carried it quietly, the way mountains carry their age, the way rivers carry their direction.

Still, Arun did not become arrogant. 

He did not look down on those who loved noise, or crowds, or the thrill of being surrounded.

 He simply understood that there are many ways to live, and one of them is not lesser just because it is quieter.

Years later, when someone asked him how he had found such calm, he thought for a moment before answering.

He said that there had been a time when he believed being alone meant being unwanted.

 He said he had learned otherwise.

 He had learned that solitude could be a workshop, a sanctuary, a mirror.

 He had learned that strength was not in how many people clapped for you, but in whether you could continue when no one was clapping at all.

And if he were to sum up his life in one sentence, he would say this:

I am not boring, I am self-sufficient.

By,

Shaina...

I come back like dawn after a long,

quiet night,

softened by silence,

carrying the hush of all the days that shaped me.

For a while, I was only listening —

to the ache, 

to the stillness,

to the small, 

almost forgotten voice inside me

asking to be found again.

And then, slowly,

like sunlight learning the shape of a window,

hope returned.

Self-love returned.

Peace returned.

Not all at once,

but gently,

as if my heart itself had remembered

how to bloom.

Now I choose the tender things —

the warmth of a kind moment,

the grace of an unhurried breath,

the quiet joy hidden in ordinary hours.

I choose to live with open hands,

to welcome each moment

as though it were a gift meant just for me.

This is my soft beginning again.

A return not only to words,

but to wonder.

To healing.

To the beautiful, imperfect rhythm of life.

So here I am —

back with hope in my heart,

self-love in my soul,

peace in my steps,

and gratitude for every moment

that led me home.

By,

Shaina...

In the movie ,"Taare Zameen Par"

The art teacher tells the rude and cursing father of the dyslexic kid about *Solomon Islands..*

In those islands, the tribal don’t cut down a tree. 

They surround the tree and curse it for hours every day..

Within a few weeks, the tree dries up and becomes dead..

Many of us might find that example too difficult to believe.

 How can intangible and invisible thoughts and words kill a tree.!

Well, if you get to read Bruce H. Lipton’s THE BIOLOGY OF BELIEF, you won’t only believe in the Solomon Islands story, but would also think a dozen times before saying something demoralizing to yourself and the people you love..

In this book, Mr. Lipton tells in detail about the power of conscious and subconscious mind..

The subconscious mind is million times more powerful than the conscious mind, and decides most of the things in our lives according to the beliefs it has..

Many times we fail to change an unpleasant habit despite our will-power and consistent efforts..

It’s because the habit has been so strongly programmed in our subconscious mind that the efforts made by our conscious mind hardly make any difference.

Conscious Mind is just a shadow of our Unconscious Mind..

So, when the tribals of Solomon Islands curse a tree, they are actually installing negative and harmful beliefs in the tree’s emotion (yes, trees do have emotions too).

Within few days, those negative emotions becomes a belief & eventually changes the molecular architecture of the tree and kill it from inside..

2500 years ago, when the Buddha said that ‘You are what you think',he was not articulating a random philosophical theory.

Actually, he was telling a scientific fact which is now proved correct by Quantum Physics and Molecular Biology.

The book has a special chapter on Conscious Parenting where it talks about the beneficial and harmful effects of what parents say to their children..

If you are a parent and you keep cursing your child in the name of constructive criticism, you are installing beliefs in their mind which will keep harming them forever..

But if you keep appreciating them in a sincere way, you are installing beliefs in their mind which will help them entire life..

And also be careful of what you keep saying to yourself.

Repetition of words and thoughts is the best way to install a belief in your subconscious mind..

If you keep saying you are a loser,don’t be surprised if you become one within a few months or years..

And if you have friends who keep saying such things to you, there is no harm in saying a quick goodbye to them..

May be you value the friendship a lot. But you must value yourself a little more..

So accept all as they are....

Love all unconditionally

By,

shaina...

When God created woman he was working late on the 6th day.......

An angel came by and asked." Why spend so much time on her?"

The lord answered. "Have you seen all the specifications I have to meet to shape her?"

She must function on all kinds of situations, 

She must be able to embrace several kids at the same time,

Have a hug that can heal anything from a bruised knee to a broken heart,

She must do all this with only two hands,"

She cures herself when sick and can work 18 hours a day"

THE ANGEL was impressed" Just two hands.....impossible!

And this is the standard model?"

The Angel came closer and touched the woman"

"But you have made her so soft, Lord".

"She is soft", said the Lord,

"But I have made her strong. You can't imagine what she can endure and overcome"

"Can she think?" The Angel asked...

The Lord answered, "Not only can she think, she can reason and negotiate"

The Angel touched her cheeks....

"Lord, it seems this creation is leaking! You have put too many burdens on her" 

"She is not leaking...it is a tear" The Lord corrected the Angel…

"What's it for?" Asked the Angel.

The Lord said. "Tears are her way of expressing her grief, her doubts, her love, her loneliness, her suffering and her pride."...

This made a big impression on the Angel,

"Lord, you are a genius. You thought of everything.

A woman is indeed marvellous"

Lord said."Indeed she is.

She has strength that amazes a man.

She can handle trouble and carry heavy burdens.

She holds happiness, love and opinions.

She smiles when she feels like screaming.

She sings when she feels like crying, cries when happy and laughs when afraid.

She fights for what she believes in.

Her love is unconditional.

Her heart is broken when a next-of-kin or a friend dies but she finds strength to get on with life"

The Angel asked: So she is a perfect being?

The lord replied: No. She has just one drawback

"She often forgets what she is worth".

Send it to all the women u respect ....👍

And to all men who respect woman 👍👍

W O M A N:

● Changes her name.

● Changes her home.

● Leaves her family.

● Moves in with you.

● Builds a home with you.

● Gets pregnant for you.

● Pregnancy changes her body.

● She gets fat.

● Almost gives up in the labour room due to the unbearable pain of child birth..

● Even the kids she delivers bear your name..

Till the day she dies.. 

everything she does...

 cooking, cleaning your house, taking care of your parents, bringing up your children, earning, advising you, ensuring you can be relaxed, maintaining all family relations, everything that benefit you..

 sometimes at the cost of her own health, hobbies and beauty.

So who is really doing whom a favour?

Dear men, appreciate the women in your lives always, because it is not easy to be a woman.

*Being a woman is priceless*

WOMAN MEANS:-

W - WONDERFUL MOTHER.

O - OUTSTANDING FRIEND.

M - MARVELLOUS DAUGHTER.

A - ADORABLE SISTER.

N - NICEST GIFT TO MEN FROM GOD.

I respect women.

By,

Shaina...

 How to remove your label given by others?(Overcoming blindspots)

Worth reading......

I sat in my chair quietly next to my Mom & Dad as my grade 4 teacher gave them an update on my progress at school.

“Your child is a slow learner”, said the school teacher quietly.

I held my breath & sank a little lower into my chair.

 I looked up at my dad to see if he was in trouble. 

My father glanced down, smiled & gave me a quick wink 😉 .

On the way home from the Parent-Teacher meeting, I thought about what Mrs. Shastri had called me – ‘Slow Learner’. 

Deep down I knew that what she really meant was that I was dumb.

Later that evening, my Mom & Dad came into my room carrying a piece of paper & a pen.

They sat down on the side of the bed & said, “Want to talk to you about what Mrs. Shastri said today ?”

“A Slow Learner”, I replied.

I had already taken the words to heart.

“That’s right”, said my dad as my mother wrote the words ‘Slow Learner’ on the piece of paper.

My parents then held up the piece of paper in front of me & purposefully tore it into two.

My eyes 😳 widened in surprise.

“Mrs. Shastri was wrong”, said my parents as they continued to tear the paper into smaller & smaller pieces.

“You’re not a slow learner.”

“I’m not ?”

“No & starting tomorrow, you & we are going to show that Mrs. Shastri was wrong, OK ?”

“OK”, I hugged my mom, snuggled down into my pillow & fell asleep with a smile 😊 on my face & a warm glow in my 💖 heart.

From that day on, my parents spent one hour per day helping me with my reading & writing. 

By the end of the year, I was doing much better at school & interestingly no one ever labeled me as a ‘Slow Learner’ again.

My parents knew that when a child receives a label from a person in authority such as a teacher or parent, they often take that label to heart & it becomes a part of their self-identity for the rest of their lives.

To avoid this from happening to their child, my parents created a tangible representation of the ‘Slow Learner’ label & tore it up it in front of me so that the label would not become a part of a child’s self-concept.

Today I would like to thank my Mom & Dad.

Think about the labels that people have given to you, your kids in the past & at present.

Perhaps you were given a label by one of your parents, your best friend, your teacher, your spouse or your boss. 

What is the label that resonates in your mind ??? 

Is there a label that has become part of your self-identity because a person in a position of authority gave it to you ??? 

If so, write this label down on a blank sheet of paper & hold it up to see it for what it really is – A Label.

It is a label – nothing more. 

It is not a part of you & you do not have to accept it as a part of your identity any longer.

As you begin to see the label for what it really is – Rip it in half & enjoy the feeling of destroying the label once & for all.

When you do this exercise, you will feel a surge of motivation to take action to ensure that no one attempts to give you this label again in the future.

Just as my parents took action & helped me with my school work, make sure you follow through & do whatever you need to do to eliminate the remnants of the label from your life forever.

REMEMBER....

SOMEBODY'S OPINION ABOUT YOU DOESN'T HAVE TO BECOME YOUR REALITY !!

A teacher's / a Parent's purpose is not to create children in his own image, but to develop children who can create their own image.. 🙏 good day .

By,

Shaina...

A little boy wanted to meet God. 

He packed his suitcase with two sets of his dress and some packets of Cakes and he stared his journey. 

He walked a long and felt tired.

So,he sat in a park on the way and opened a packet to take a cake to eat. 

Then he noticed an old woman sitting sad with hunger nearby, so he offered her a piece of cake.

She gratefully accepted it with a wide look and smiled at him. 

Her smile was so pretty that the boy longed to see it again. 

After some time he offered her another piece of cake.

 Again, she accepted it and smiled at him.

The boy was delighted! 

They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word.

While it grew dark, the boy was frightened and he up got to leave but before he had gone more than a few steps, he ran back and gave her a hug and she kissed him with her prettiest smile.

When the boy opened the door, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. 

She asked him, “What did you do today that made you look so happy?”

He replied,” I had lunch with God.”

Before, his mother could respond, he added, “You know what? She’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Meanwhile,the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home. 

Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and asked, “Mom, what did you do today that made you so happy?

“She replied, “I ate cakes in the park with God.” 

Before his son responded, she added,”You know, he’s much younger than I expected.”

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile,a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

Remember, nobody knows how God will look like.

 People come into our lives for a reason, for a season, or for a lifetime. 

Accept all of them equally! 

AND LET THEM SEE GOD IN YOU!!!!!

By,

Shaina...

*Pencil:* I’m sorry….

*Eraser:* For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.

*Pencil:* I’m sorry cos you get hurt bcos of me. Whenever I made a mistake, you’re always there to erase it. 

But as you make my mistakes vanish, you lose a part of yourself. 

You get smaller and smaller each time.

*Eraser:* That’s true. But I don’t really mind. You see, I was made to do this. 

I was made to help you whenever you do something wrong.

Even though one day, I know I’ll be gone and you’ll replace me with a new one, I’m actually happy with my job..

So please, stop worrying. 

I hate seeing you sad.

 I found this conversation between the pencil and the eraser very inspirational.

Parents are like the eraser whereas their children are the pencil. 

They’re always there for their children, cleaning up their mistakes. 

Sometimes along the way… they get hurt, and become smaller (older, and eventually pass on). 

Though their children will eventually find someone new (spouse), but parents are still happy with what they do for their children, and will always hate seeing their precious ones worrying, or sad. 

This is for all parents out there.....

Happy children's day🎉 to all the adults who often try to hide their inner child behind their so called mature personality... just to be fit in the society, but the thing is no matter how much we hide that child, it never dies it keeps urging us to let it enjoy freely away from the constant pressure and responsibility to meet society's expectations and it's idealism.

If we keep suppressing this inner urge we aren't killing that innocent kid, we’re stealing moments of happiness from ourselves. Those who keep their inner child alive never feel lack of joy, they find happiness in every little thing. Their innocence keep them away from world's greedy evils.

Understand your responsibilities but not at the cost of losing your innocence, kindness, and joy.... Try to alance your responsibilities with the pure joy that our inner child brings.

May we walk through life with duty in our hands yet remain beautifully childlike within.🌷✨

By,

Shaina...

At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married and had no children, was walking through a park one day in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. 

She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully.

Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.

The next day,

 when they had not yet found the doll, 

Kafka gave the girl a letter "written" by the doll saying "please don't cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures."

Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka's life.

During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.

Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned to Berlin.

"It doesn't look like my doll at all," said the girl.

Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me." 

The little girl hugged the new doll and brought the doll with her to her happy home.

A year later Kafka died.

Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. 

In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:

"Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way."

Embrace change. 

It's inevitable. 

It can be painful.

But it can be changed or as Kafka would say “metamorphosed” from pain into wonder and love.

It is up to us to think of the ways to consciously make that happen.

Keep creating connections.”

Happy childrens day to the child in you

By,

Shaina...

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,

It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, 

It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, 

It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, 

It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, 

We had everything before us, we had nothing before us, 

We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way

In short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, 

For good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only"

These words were written by Charles Dickens in 1859 so far away from India.

And reading these lines, sounds so much like it's written about the contemporary times.

By,

Shaina...

One day, a Donkey and a Tiger got into an argument over the color of the grass.

​

“The grass is blue,” said the Donkey.

​

“That’s ridiculous,” replied the Tiger. “The grass is clearly green.”

​

When the argument grew more and more intense, they decided to find the Lion, King of the Jungle, to settle the debate.

​

When they approached the Lion, the Donkey exclaimed, “Your Highness, isn’t it true that the grass is blue?”

​

“Yes,” the Lion calmly answered, “The grass is blue.”

​

Not yet satisfied, the Donkey continued, “The Tiger disagrees and argues with me. You must punish him.”

​

The Lion nodded, “I will. The Tiger will be punished with a year of silence.”

​

The Donkey walked off into the jungle, celebrating his victory.

​

Before the Tiger turned to leave, he looked up at the Lion. “Your Highness, why have you punished me? After all, you must see the grass is clearly green.”

​

The Lion nodded, “Yes, of course the grass is green.”

​

“Then why am I being punished?” asked the Tiger.

​

“Because someone as wise as you should never waste time proving anything to a fool.”

Bye,

Shaina...

There was a time when I believed love was meant to hurt—that pain was the currency of devotion, and endurance the measure of my worth.

 I thought love demanded sacrifice, that bending until I broke was proof of how deeply I cared. 

I convinced myself that overlooking the cracks, the quiet dismissals, and the subtle betrayals was part of the journey. 

I told myself that if I loved hard enough, if I forgave enough, everything would eventually be okay.

But love, I learned, is never meant to blind you.

One morning, after countless sleepless nights tangled in doubt and mornings heavy with regret, the fog finally lifted. 

The haze that once softened the edges of disrespect, the half-hearted apologies, 

and the broken promises began to clear. 

I saw the truth—not the love I wanted, 

but the reality I had been living.

I realized I had been trapped in a story that wasn’t mine—a story where my value was measured by how much I could tolerate, 

how much I could forgive, 

and how much I could forget.

Falling out of love wasn’t a failure.

It was a fierce, necessary awakening.

It was the moment I stopped making excuses for someone else’s shortcomings and started making space for my own healing. 

I stopped answering the calls that left me feeling hollow and stopped turning pain into poetry.

 I stopped shrinking myself to fit into a love that never truly saw me.

I stood up.

I walked away.

And the world didn’t end.

There was no dramatic collapse, 

no earth-shattering heartbreak—just a quiet, powerful awakening.

In that stillness, I found myself again.

I found the courage to love without losing me.

Because sometimes, the bravest act of love is to fall out of it—not to close your heart, 

but to open it wider to the love you truly deserve.

And in that space, 

life begins anew—raw,

 real,

 and beautifully yours.

I realised love is about living your life truly and freely.

### Why This Story Matters?###

This is not just a story about heartbreak.

 It’s a story about clarity, courage, and reclaiming your worth. 

It’s a reminder that love should never dim your light or silence your voice.

 When you fall out of love, you don’t lose yourself—you find yourself. 

And that is the most powerful love story you will ever live.

By,

Shaina...