Tag: dailyprompts

Moving Because I Have To

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What are five simple exercises to do at home?

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I do not exercise. And I don’t mean that I do not exercise regularly. I mean I do not exercise. I actively choose not to.

Am I healthy by normal standards? Absolutely not. But am I lazy beyond normal sanity? Yes!

I like things easy, so exercising has never been something I willingly make time for. The only real movement I get comes from doing household chores, the occasional deep cleaning, and walking around within the four walls of my house.

I don’t even take the time to do proper breathing exercises. During a check-up, I was told that I tend to take very small breaths, and I have also noticed that I sometimes hold my breath without even realizing it.

So, if I were ever going to exercise, it would have to be simple. Nothing complicated, nothing that makes me question every life decision that brought me to that moment.

My five simple exercises would probably be:

  1. Walking
    Probably the most realistic option for me. I already walk around the house, so this would simply require me to do a little more of it intentionally.
  2. Stretching
    Simple stretches feel less intimidating than an actual workout. They are something I could imagine doing without mentally preparing myself for battle first.
  3. Chair Exercises
    An exercise that allows me to sit down? Now we are speaking my language. Simple seated movements seem much more approachable to someone starting from absolutely nothing.
  4. Breathing Exercises
    Considering I apparently forget to breathe properly sometimes, intentionally paying attention to my breathing feels like something worth working on.
  5. Simple Mobility Exercises
    Gentle movements of my shoulders, arms, ankles, and legs sound manageable. Nothing extreme, just getting my body to move more than it currently does.

I know that none of these sounds particularly ambitious. But maybe that is exactly the point. For someone who does nothing, doing something is already progress.

The Ones that I love the most

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Which relationship has taught you the most about yourself?

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Irony… It is pure irony that this is the prompt for today. My mind and heart are in turmoil. They have waged a war, and my heart has lost. Only my mind has kept me standing.

I think I am somewhat of a protector. I would rather hurt than let the ones I love hurt. As a child, I believed that every smiling face in my life was love, but over the years, I learnt that most of them were facades. They smiled because they wanted something from me. As a child, they wanted my parents to pay the price for their love, and when I grew older, they wanted me to pay the price to keep my parents happy.

Over the years of growing up, I gave up on those ties. I realised that I would rather see the sneer on their faces than watch them hide it behind a mask of fake love. At least then, I knew what was real.

With every relationship I gave up, I realized that my form of protection, simply taking the hits and breaking down in silence, was not the only thing I could do. I learnt how to break ties and walk away. I learnt that sometimes being the sacrificial lamb is not the way to grow. Sometimes, being the raging bull is something I need to allow myself to be.

Carrying all that weight inside with the objective of causing no one else pain is not always the right thing to do. The relationships that have destroyed me have also given me the courage to be mad. To speak up when something is wrong. To walk away when staying costs me too much. And to learn to accept the role of the villain if it means that I get to keep my sanity.

Because I am finally learning that protecting the people I love should never have required destroying myself.

Student studying at a desk beside a stack of books

Beyond their Values

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What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?

I think most people are different from how they were raised. I used to think that I got my morals from my parents. While that was definitely a starting point, I think over time my ideology has diverged from theirs.

What my parents think is right made more sense in the society they grew up in. The society today is very different. I also realized that even with my parents’ guidance, or rather their instructions on what was right and wrong, I still wanted to challenge everything during my rebellious phase.

The restrictions my parents set felt constricting and suffocating. I had to break them. In some cases, I got burned, and in some cases, I learned. Just because my parents were right does not mean that I was wrong.

My parents brought me up in a very strict household where there was always a clear flow of authority. Being the youngest, my opinion was rarely sought. But life has taught me that sometimes even the youngest person has valuable opinions.

When I was younger, I used to keep my mouth shut and listen, but now I choose to speak up and voice my opinions. I realize that regardless of age, people deserve to be heard. I think this is probably one of the biggest ways I differ from what I was taught growing up.

Opening the App folder

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What are your favorite 5 apps on your phone?

My favourite apps in no particular order are

  1. Picsart
  2. Pinterest
  3. Spotify
  4. YouTube
  5. Procreate

I am learning digital art so the drawing apps were bound to appear. Pinterest gives me ideas about art stuff that I want to do. Last but definitely not the least music is a mandate to stay sane. I need music playing in the background when I am doing anything.

So many

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What’s a book you never finished but still think about?

I love reading books. I love the mysteries, the plot and the worlds that are only present in imagination.

During a very troubled phase of my life I started getting disturbed when the there was a story line that hinted towards something bad, going to happen I closed the book and tucked it away in my book shelf.

I am not the kind of person who prefers to flip to the end of the book to see if the characters and up getting happy ending. Instead, I would just stop reading the book. It was quite the same case for TV series, which entered towards dark phase for the protagonist. My mind could not handle the stress that was associated with the emotions that come when you connect to the characters. Unfortunately, during that period I ended up, leaving a lot of books unread.

But now that I have finally started facing my fears again, I think it’s time for me to go back to the incomplete world hidden in the books that I have long forgotten. It is strange to think how many parts of me I give up in an effort to fit in where there was no place for me. I think it is time to finally give importance to things that makes me happy. And to finally do things that brings me happiness.

Woman reading in a lantern-lit garden beneath a starry sky

Fantasy world

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Which fictional world would be the most fun to vacation in?

I think that if I could be part of a fictional world, it would most certainly be a world where magic exists. I love reading books that revolve around magic, special powers, and worlds that exist only in the imagination. There is something fascinating about the idea that reality can be shaped by creativity, courage, and a little bit of wonder.

Imagine using magic to complete daily chores that you don’t like doing. Laundry could fold itself, dishes could clean themselves, and cleaning the house would take only a few seconds. Imagine instant costume changes with no worries about surprise events or running late. Life would feel a little less stressful and a lot more fun.

But what interests me most is not the convenience. Imagine a world where you can heal nature and help people heal as well. Forests damaged by pollution could be restored overnight, rivers could run clear again, and barren land could become green and full of life. Magic could bring hope where there is despair and give people a second chance when they need it most.

While I wouldn’t want magic to be the solution to everything, it would be nice to have it for solving existential crises. Some challenges help us grow, and life would probably lose its meaning if every problem could be fixed with the wave of a hand. However, having a little magic to guide us through our hardest moments would make the burden easier to carry.

If I had magic, I could create the perfect world for myself: a quiet place surrounded by nature, endless libraries filled with books, cozy corners to read in, and enough peace to simply exist without worrying about the pressures of everyday life. Maybe I would even extend the hours in a day so I could finally do all the things I never seem to have enough time for. There are so many books I want to read, places I want to explore, and hobbies I want to try, but somehow the day always ends before I get to them.

And, if I am being completely honest, one of the first magic I would learn would probably be invisibility. Not forever, and not for grand adventures, but for those days when I simply cannot handle the world or the people in it. The days when every conversation feels exhausting and every expectation feels heavy. It would be nice to disappear for a little while, away from prying eyes, unsolicited opinions, and the constant need to be present.

In that invisible space, I could just exist. I could wander through forests, sit by a lake, read for hours, or watch the world go by without feeling like I had to participate in it. There is something comforting about the idea of being unseen, not because I want to hide, but because sometimes I want the freedom to experience the world without it experiencing me back.

Man reading a book in a dimly lit study beside a lamp

Thoughts in a Dark Corner

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I sat in the corner of a dark room,
Wishing to be something I never could be.
Hoping for things that were never mine,
Dreaming of happenings too unrealistic.

Waiting for the spark of joy to come to my life,
Staring at wonders, hoping they’d answer my call.
Thinking my life would change in a glowering second,
Whispering to the darkness to give room for light.

Speaking to silence, asking it to be my companion.
Listening to the voice of my heart, urging me to hold on.
Smiling at sorrows, pretending I do not care.
Lifting my head to portray the image of a stranger.

Crushing emotions to hide the fear of failing.
Dancing to beats I can never recognize.
Drawing a path I never wished to follow.
Singing a song I cannot tune into.

Saying things I never meant,
Never imagining life would twist this way,
A life to live for others,
But lived by me.

What does being free mean to you?

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I am extremely grateful to be born free.

But what does being free actually mean in today’s world. You read about the history where there was extreme cases of slavery, an era whenhumans were considered less than animals. There was no free will people lived according to the rules set by the masters. Where breathing was also done without the permission of their master.

The extreme cases makes you loose your mind. Those people struggled to determine their worth in this world they fought for their voice to be hoard in this world and through immense sacrifice they finally succeeded.

we are free from this struggle but are we really free?

The society that we live in today has created new chains.

We are boundby society’s expectation and the constant pressure of having to match what society deems appropriate slowly crashes the person from within. Today I can buy what I want and I can eat what I want and ican dress the way I want to. But still I hesitate with the one thought running in my head what will people think of me? And somehow I am paralyzed to the world’s expectation. Today you cannot see the physical chains that bind, they are the chains of my mind that are choking the life out of me.

So I ask you – Are you really born free?

Faded Memories

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Daily writing prompt
If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be and why?
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When people talk about childhood memories, they describe them so vividly that it feels like I can almost see them myself. I can feel the emotions they felt at the time. The joy, the comfort, the innocence. They speak about their past as though they can step back into it whenever they want.

For me, it isn’t like that.

When I sit alone and try to remember the past, I feel as though I am lost in a haze. I know things happened. I know I laughed, loved, celebrated, worried, and dreamed. But whenever I reach for a specific memory, my mind returns only fragments. Faces without conversations. Places without stories. Feelings without context.

Sometimes I think I have a habit of placing memories into a box and setting it aside. Not because I want to forget them, but because life keeps moving forward. There is always something new demanding my attention. Over time, I stopped opening the box.

Now, when I try to revisit those memories, it feels as though it has been locked shut.

Yet something remarkable happens whenever I am with my family.

A story gets mentioned. A photograph appears. Someone laughs about something that happened years ago. Slowly, the blurry images begin to sharpen. The haze lifts. The memories come rushing back, and with them all the emotions I felt in those moments.

What I miss most are not the big milestones or the stories people would tell at a family gathering.

I miss the ordinary moments.

I want to relive the nights when we were children and all of us squeezed into our parents’ king-size bed. We would fight over the blanket and argue over who got to sleep next to Mom and who got to sleep next to Dad. At the time it felt like the most serious argument in the world. Now I would give anything to be back there, surrounded by the warmth and chaos of a family that was all together in one place.

I want to relive the days when my dad would carry me on his shoulders. The world seemed bigger from up there, but somehow safer too. I would eventually drift off to sleep without a single worry in my mind and he would not move me, walking the complete distance to home. Or even those magical moments when I fell asleep in front of the television and woke up in my bed the next morning. I never questioned how I got there.

I want to relive the afternoons when my dad fed me lunch because my mother worried that I never finished my plate. I remember treating it as an inconvenience. Just another part of my day. Now I understand that some of the greatest expressions of love arrive disguised as ordinary routines.

I want to relive the evenings when my mom came home exhausted from work and stretched out on the bed for a brief nap. Her arm was always extended outward because the pillow was never meant for me. Without ever saying a word, she made space for my head in the crook of her arm. Looking back, I realize that no pillow I have slept on since has ever felt as comfortable or as safe.

I want to relive the days when I was shorter than my sister. When I could hug her and bury my face in the crook of her shoulder. When her embrace felt like protection from everything I didn’t yet understand about the world

The Pursuit of Happyness

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What’s the last movie that made you cry?

I do not know if it is the first or the last, but The Pursuit of Happyness always gives me the feels. It does not have a thrilling plot, a heroic arc, or a dramatic love story. It is just plain and simple—and yet it moves the heart. The film shows the struggle of the common man. He has no grand dreams, only the desire to build a life for his family. There is no villain in his story except life itself. Even after doing everything right, it seems that life keeps knocking him down. And still, while enduring the countless challenges that life throws at him, he stubbornly shields his family from the pain he himself is carrying. He does whatever it takes to protect their hope and fights to turn that fragile hope into reality.

That pure relatability of the storyline always tugs at my heartstrings. No matter how many times I have seen it, I keep subconsciously hoping for a happy ending. It does not matter that I know the ending, that I could probably recite every dialogue. Each time, the movie makes me forget all the past times I have watched it and renews that raw emotion—the revival of hope.

Perhaps that is why it lingers. It reminds me that resilience is not always loud or celebrated. Sometimes it is quiet, invisible, and deeply human. Sometimes it is simply the act of enduring, of protecting those we love, of believing in tomorrow even when today feels unbearable. And that is why The Pursuit of Happyness never fails to move me—it is not just a film, but a reminder of the stubborn, beautiful persistence of hope.