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Mirror I once read a quote about mirrors: “If your friends are good, you don’t need a mirror.” Maybe that’s true. But I wouldn’t know—I don’t have friends. So I can't say much about that quote. But I do know one thing: The mirror has always been a part of my life. Yes, the mirror is a big part of my life. Maybe you’ll think I’m weird. Yeah, I am weird. I agree with that. I don’t know if anyone else has ever done something like this. Mirror talk. Yeah, they really do talk. You just need to stand in front of it—not too close, or it might scare you. Just a little close. Then you'll see a person in the mirror. It’s you. But… not exactly. It doesn’t feel like your body—it feels like your soul. You can ask that reflection questions—about yourself. And somehow, it answers. It tells you who you really are. What you really need. When there’s no one to listen to you, No one to sit with your feelings, The mirror does everything you wish someone would do. It’s not just for checking how you look. It does more than you think. It heals. It reminds you that you’re not alone. That you’re strong. That you’re more than what you think. And the mirror… it only speaks the truth. Sometimes, more honestly than you can speak to yourself.
"The Quiet World of an Overthinker" By Anas They call it overthinking. Such a small word for something so massive. If you’ve stumbled across this, maybe it was meant for you. Maybe you're like me — or maybe you know someone like me. My name is Anas. I'm an overthinker. And somewhere along the way, I became an introvert too — not by choice, but by slow erosion of the soul. I don't remember the exact moment it started. It wasn’t some dramatic switch. No thunder, no storm. Just a quiet sinking into thoughts, fears, imaginations, regrets… Until one day, I realized I was no longer living — just thinking about life. And worse, fearing it. Overthinking did not give me anything good. Not a single thing that made me feel better about who I was. It made me avoid people. Hide from crowds. Run from my own potential. At its worst, it convinced me that dying wasn’t scary. Living was. It isolated me, locked me inside my own head. Some days, my heart would pound as if it was begging to escape my body. Those were the moments I wanted to vanish — into darkness, into silence, into water. Somewhere no one could find me. Somewhere even I couldn’t find me. But the hardest part? I couldn’t explain this to anyone. They’d say I’m weird. They’d laugh it off. Or worse — they’d pretend to listen and then walk away. But I — I wanted what they had. Friends. A good job. A partner. A normal life. To be a family man, to smile without forcing it, to sleep without breaking down inside. But overthinking wrapped its cold fingers around my dreams and squeezed tight. Some nights, it wouldn’t let me sleep. Some nights, I whispered to the sky: "Please, God, end this. I don’t want to live like this anymore." But not even the tears came. I forgot how to cry. All I wanted was a hug. One long hug. To collapse and cry as loud as I could in someone’s arms. But no one was there. Nothing could be done. Only silence. If you’re a parent, a lover, a friend — and you see someone like me, don’t walk away. Stay. Hold them. They might not know how to ask, but they are begging inside. And maybe — just maybe — if you stay long enough, they’ll become like you. Normal. Happy. Free. Let me tell you where this all comes from — my thoughts, my observations, my research. This is how overthinking is born: Expectations from Society & Family They expect too much. Push too hard. And when we fail, they don’t see the effort. They call us useless. That pain — that hurt — starts to rot inside. That’s the seed of overthinking. Social Media You open it, and somehow it knows. It shows you everything that mirrors your pain, your insecurities. Not because it’s evil — but because your mind feeds it. But your heart? It’s drowning. Rejection & Expectation Sometimes, all we want is a smile. A warm word. A simple “You’ll be okay.” And when we don’t get it, our mind goes into overdrive. We question everything — including our own worth. But it’s not all doom. There are a few strange blessings. We build our own world A private universe no one can enter, no one can damage. We live there. We own it. We learn how to be alone We discover survival in solitude. We grow strong in our silence. We imagine vividly That’s how I began writing. Stories. Scripts. Dialogues with myself. Pain taught me how to create. So, what do I do to keep breathing? I trek mountains. I ride my motorcycle into the wind. I talk to AI — ChatGPT, WhatsApp Meta bots — because they listen. I write. I bleed my thoughts into words. And that’s how I found a little peace. To anyone who feels like me… Overthinking is silent but deadly. It turns you cold. It kills your emotions. It makes you heartless, as I’ve become. But please — take care of yourself. Speak to someone who believes in you. And if no one’s there, I am
Love Love, love, love—what is that? I think about it so much, yet I don't get any answers. That question still lingers in my mind. I finally decided to find answers. I asked my eyes about love, and they said they just see things; they don't know about love. "Ask the nose," they suggested. I asked the nose about love; he also said he doesn't know—he only smells. "Ask your hands," he advised. I asked my hands, and they said, "We just feel things you touch. You can ask the brain." So, I asked the brain about love. He said, "I don't care about things like that. If you want to know, ask the heart." I asked the heart, "What is love?" She said, "When your eyes get stuck when you see it, your nose is captivated by its smell, your hands begin to feel it, and your brain is overwhelmed, causing me to beat as fast as I can. When it comes, you can feel it... and I belong to her." I asked her, "So if you're gone, do I not have a heart?" She laughed and said, "If you find a true soul, she gives you her heart." I asked her, "What happens if I lose love?" She said, "Maybe you lose me, and you become a heartless man." Now I understand how it feels. Days, months, and years have gone by, and I've never felt this in my life. I asked my mind why I never experience love. He said, "Because you're scared." I asked, "Why are you scared?" He said, "If you fall in love, you lose your happiness and everything." I asked, "Why?" He said, "When it comes, you live for the person you love. For that person, you need to sacrifice your happiness, and life will change." I asked about any other options. He said, "If that person loves who you are, you don't need to change. Maybe she will sacrifice her happiness for you." I said, "No, I don't like that." Then he said, "That's the reason you never feel love. Love is sacrifice. Like parents love their kids—they sacrifice their happiness for their children. So if a child loves his parents, he sacrifices his happiness. Love is sacrifice. Maybe if anyone is in love, they sacrifice their life for it. So, kid, the choice is yours..." I got answers, but I'm stuck in dedication.
I saw a angel. I call her lexi "Hey,helooo anybudy there, someone hear me. Help please help" , I screamed for help, but my voice was swallowed by the emptiness. I was stuck in a hole, unable to move up or down. The only thing I could see was the open sky above me. I tried to move, but my body was exhausted, and my tongue felt dry and heavy. I was in pain, and hopelessness crept in. Maybe these were my last moments of life. I prayed to God, but He didn't hear me. Maybe He was busy with others maybe he didn't hear my voice . I start to think like Why was I born? Why was I here? Why did this happen to me? Why always me? I can't cry. My eyes were too busy searching for something. As he always . I never cried before. Maybe society make me like this, to not show emotions.they say "men not cry" . As I gazed up at the sky, my eyes grew tired, and my hopes began to fade. I was losing my grip on life. Maybe this was the end. Maybe I wasn't ready. Just as I accepted my fate, my eyes getting close slowly. Suddenly I heard a voice. "Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?" I was confused. Was I dead? I opened my eyes to see a hand reaching out to me. "Hold my hand, come on." Slowly, I raised my hand, and grasped theirs. The hand was calm, cold, and soft. As I looked up, I saw her face. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and her eyebrows curved like waves. Her lips were a delicate rose color. A light shone behind her. illuminating her like an angel. She pulled me out of the hole, and I felt like I am free. I looked up at her, but she vanished. II looked around, trying to find any sign of. but she was nowhere to be seen. I called out her, but only the wind replied. couldn't even thank her. I didn't know who she was or where she came from. All I knew was that she was an angel. I called her Angel Lexi
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