#lifequestions
What if it was easy?
No sharp edges.
No wrong turns.
No nights where the ceiling feels closer than the sky.
Would you still wake up
like it mattered?
If no one ever left,
if no one ever failed you,
if every hand that held yours
stayed…
Would love feel heavy enough
to mean something?
Or would it be light —
like paper in wind —
noticed only when it’s gone?
Let me ask you this —
If diamonds were stones on every pavement,
would you bend down?
If everyone sang in perfect pitch,
would music move you
or just fill the air?
If every child grew up untouched by chaos,
would resilience even have a name?
And if you never broke —
not once —
would you know
how strong you are?
Or would you mistake comfort
for character?
Here’s the part that stings:
We say we want simple.
But simple is flat.
Simple doesn’t stretch you.
Simple doesn’t carve depth into your voice.
Would oceans be powerful
without cliffs resisting them?
Would fire be beautiful
if it never burned?
Would a phoenix rise
in a world without ashes?
Pause there.
If everyone thought the same thought
at the same time
in the same way —
Is that peace?
Or is that silence?
If no one questioned anything,
would we call it harmony…
or would we call it control?
And you —
The parts of you
that don’t fit neatly,
the parts that feel “too much,”
too intense,
too deep —
What if that’s the proof
you’re not meant to be shallow?
What if your scars
aren’t interruptions…
but punctuation?
What if the detours
are the only reason
you discovered who you are?
Tell me —
If life handed you answers
before you ever struggled with the question,
would you value the truth?
Or would you skim past it
like another easy page?
Maybe difficulty isn’t punishment.
Maybe it’s invitation.
Maybe the reason we don’t all look, love, think, or survive the same
is because growth
demands friction.
And friction
demands difference.
So I’ll leave you with this —
If everything was perfect,
predictable,
soft —
Would you be proud
of who you are?
Or would you have never
had to become
anything at all?
Sit with that.
Because maybe the hard parts
aren’t the waste.
Maybe the waste
would have been
never having to rise.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 10:11 PM UTC
I talked to god
And he told me to be vulnerable
I asked why as I'm already full of cuts and bloodied.
You can see I'm battle worn.
He said show them your vulnerability
So I did
And I got cut up some more.
I'm left wondering why.
I don't understand it
I don't know why
But the pain is so deep
I wish I could die
Been praying to the saints
Demanding why
They don't take me away
So I can fly.
Maybe then I can get some peace
Maybe then I'll be free
Maybe then I can get some sleep
Without the pain reminding me
But the saints never ******* answer me.
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 9:10 PM UTC
We can’t go back to the beginning.
If we had known the ending,
would we still be on this road?
But I understand —
you want to know what it’s like
to be far from home,
why I can’t sleep at night.
I understand.
You want to know
why I always order the same drink twice
at that bar on the corner.
I understand.
You want to know
what it’s like to stand
on the wrong side of the history.
And honestly,
there comes a moment
when you get used to it,
and it starts to feel right.
It’s okay.
I’m okay now.
But I appreciate the concern —
keep digging,
keep asking about my life,
and one day
you’ll know about me.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 7:16 AM UTC
कशात हुडकावा आनंद
हे आजकाल कळेनासं झालंय,
आनंदी राहायचं कारण
आजकाल मिळेनासं झालंय.
जुने दिवस आठवावे म्हणतो,
जरा भावनिक होईन म्हणतो...
पण मग पडतो प्रश्न येऊन –
की भावना तरी उरल्यात का आता?
आश्रू अनावर व्हायला,
ते अश्रू तरी उरलेत का आता?
प्रेमाला शोधायच्या आशेने
आयुष्याच्या जंगलात भटकतो,
खोट्या आशेच्या नदीत
थोडा वेळ पहुडतो.
पण होईन का मी ओला प्रेमाने त्या नदीत?
का होईल मला भास,
आणि पडेन मी दुःखाच्या दरीत?
का दिसेल मला मृगजळ
त्या भाबड्या, प्रेमळ हरणाचं?
जाऊदे ते सगळं –
मी जाऊन काहीतरी खातो,
पाणीपुरीतलं पाणी
जरा मिटक्या मारत पितो.
पण मग येतं डाएट आडवं
आणि दाखवतं जाडी माझी –
"३६ ची पॅन्ट घालायची लायकी आहे का तुझी?
पोटावर पडल्यात वळ्या,
आणि गाल झालेत गुबगुबीत,
हत्ती सारखे पाय तुझे,
शरीर दिसतंय बटबटीत!"
मग आठवतं मला करिअर,
आणि मिळवू म्हणतो पैसा...
करिअरच्या टेन्शनने
क्षीण होऊन जातो नाहीसा.
इतके श्रीमंत होऊ की
असेल बंगला, गाडी,
भरपूर फ्लॅट घेऊ,
महिन्याला येतील भाडी.
पण तिथे तरी हा माजोर्डा रूबाब
देईल का मला सुख?
आणि एवढं सगळं करून शेवटी मला
राहील का आनंदाची भूक?
कशात हुडकावा आनंद?
हे आजकाल कळेनासं झालंय...
आनंदी राहायचं कारण
आजकाल मिळेनासं झालंय.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 3:09 AM UTC
For how can a child be called immature,
If the adult is the one showing the worst?
I cannot do wrong if I am not taught wrong.
A child can’t be bad if it hasn’t seen bad.
Why blame a child for the despicable behavior that the adult failed to keep from it?
Why blame anyone at all, for we have all experienced it.
Can’t we fix the idea of immature by teaching a different course to the people that will one day be grown?
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 11:59 AM UTC
The death of a somebody
Is life affirming.
My favorites attend
In the ante-room,
Eyeshot from the shell.
They appeared to be telling
Off-colored jokes,
Childish giggles, anxious glances.
Others talked nervously on their health,
Their swing and trips, car salesmen, and politics.
Violet remarked on the wedding, the bride's redolent dress,
Brocade and settings.
The vows were personal and promising.
Funeral Home is an ironic euphamism;
But the coffee is strong and bitter,
I burned my tongue.
I didn't see much black, mostly pastels.
It's a multi-media presentation of family,
Old and getting precariously older,
Cavorting at the cottage,
Sitting under Christmas trees,
Holding up scarves and mittens.
Everyone smoked then. Everything's hidden.
Someone's grandson touched his hand,
Then recoiled into the nearest waist.
Except for the flowers and box,
There was vibrancy and planning
Where to meet following the graveside,
For a drink and toast to why we're here,
To why any of us are here at all.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
What's in a dream?
is it you?
or me?
or who we hope to be?
where's the seam?
which is my reality?
All I want is clarity;
to know if I'll awake from despair into prosperity.
To know if it's all an illusion;
an allusion to confusion.
Which leads me to believe;
That there's nothing left to perceive,
and that it's my own information i receive.
That life...
Is but a dream.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
What if there was no light,
No inclination to fight,
Mountains, all feasible to climb;
To be in anyplace, and anytime.
What if love was a verb,
No pitfalls, no feelings to curb,
True loves lost in abyss,
No one to meet nor miss.
What if death was avoidable,
and people weren't exploitable,
Earth as Eden;
No sin, no wrong, even.
What if sadness was eliminated,
No choice debated,
Just action, speaking before thinking,
Leaving all people sinking.
For death is still a shadow,
The bite-mark is in the apple.
Love is fate,
ships of sadness and pain:
Humanity as the first mate.
Always surrounded with quandary and question...
But one thing yet to mention:
Eliminate all questions of "what if" in mind,
Then there shall be answers to find.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC