Echoes of Queen

 We like to believe we're rational creatures. We often tell ourselves that when something or someone hurts us, we'll leave it behind. We'll walk away, close the chapter, and never look back. But the heart has never obeyed logic. Sometimes, the very place that breaks us is the place we instinctively run to in search of healing. That is the cruel irony of pain. Pain has a strange way of exposing the parts of us that logic cannot reach. It reveals that we are not merely creatures of reason. We are creatures of attachment. We don't always run toward what is good for us. More often than not, we run toward what once felt like home. Perhaps that's why healing is rarely as simple as "letting go," as we so quickly like to say. When we hear the statement, "You want to be soothed by the very fire that burned you," our minds immediately wander to romance. A broken heart. A relationship that ended. A love that became a wound. But I don't believe this iron...

Author's Note: I've always loved words. Poetry, especially, has fascinated me, not because of its rules, but because of its ability to say so much with so little. Recently, I came across a painting on Instagram accompanied by a challenge: Write a short poem inspired by this image. Something about it stopped me. The solitude. The distance. The moonlit silence. It felt familiar, as though it was speaking a language I already knew. Though poetry isn't something I often share here, I decided to answer the call. This is what the painting whispered to me. The moon hangs low, a silent witness to the distance between where I stand and where the lights begin. Behind me, ghosts of yesterday drag their weary feet, calling my name as though memory were a place I belonged. Ahead, a village glows with promises I cannot yet touch, warm windows, gentle laughter, a life still waiting to know me. And here I remain, between departure and destination, between the ache of what was and the uncer...

 There’s a quiet kind of war people don’t talk about enough. This one is between wanting to be close and needing to feel safe. You’ll find yourself craving connection. Something deep, real, fierce, consuming… almost addictive. The kind where you’re seen without having to explain yourself. The kind where you can rest in someone without questioning it. But at the same time, something in you pulls back. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough to create distance. You hesitate, you overthink, you stay on guard, you flinch at the thought of it, you retreat… even when it’s exactly what you asked for. You feel it. That quiet tension that builds up. It isn’t just emotional, but physical… like when your mind says come closer, but your body remembers something your words haven’t explained yet. And it’s confusing, because how do you explain wanting something so badly, yet struggling to receive it when it finally comes? It’s not pride. It’s not coldness. Sometimes it’s memory. Sometimes it’s ...

This piece explores how our past can shape us, and how we still hold the power to shape ourselves. Selene's story, while fictional, reflects the reality of many who silently carry trauma. it's just a reminder that healing isn't about erasing what hurt us, but about reclaiming our voice and rewriting what come's next. if you've wondered whether your past defines you, this is for you. Let this be a soft nudge; you're still becoming, and you get to choose what that looks like.  The past never truly leaves us. It echoes through our thoughts, sharpens our reactions, and sometimes distorts the lens through which we see the world. From the moments of joy to the deepest scars, the experience we carry often shape who we are - at least that’s what  we've been  led  to believe. We are a tapestry woven with threads of yesterday. Each encounter, each choice, leaves an indelible mark, a shadow resonating within us. The weight of our past, both grand and subtle, whisper st...