Tag: writingprompts

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.

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

Ethereal library with swirling staircases, countless books, and a luminous door

Magic that Distance brings

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Which author would you love to have dinner with?

While I love books and the worlds authors create for me with their words, I have never wished to meet any of them in person. My love is for the words themselves — words that open doors to thrillers, mysteries, and fantasy realms where the impossible suddenly feels possible. These stories are dreams I carry with me, and I would not intentionally break that magic.

The mystery of the human mind fascinates me. Two people can grow up in the same circumstances, yet the worlds they imagine will never be the same. That divergence is what makes storytelling so extraordinary. Each reader builds their own version of the author’s world, and that uniqueness is what I treasure most.

Meeting an author, however, feels like it would collapse the boundary between dream and reality. To see the person behind the words might fracture the spell those books have cast over me. I prefer to keep the curtain closed, to let the illusion remain untouched.

There is also a practical side to this choice. Being an introvert, I know I would struggle to hold a conversation with an author. Relating to another reader is easy — we share the experience of being transported. But relating to the author’s mindframe, the place where those worlds were born, feels like a gulf too wide to cross.

So I choose to keep my dream world separate from reality. I admire the craft, I cherish the words, but I do not seek the person behind them. Meeting an author is not on my bucket list. For me, the truest way to honor their work is to let their words live freely in my imagination, untouched by the weight of reality.

We made it

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If your future self could send you one sentence, what do you hope it would say?


While most people would account for this to achieving some major milestone in their life. I think for me those three words means that I survived.. Not survival in the dramatic sense of escaping catastrophe, but survival in the quieter, relentless way of enduring the everyday battles that threatened to erode me piece by piece.

There were years when each day felt like poison slowly dripping into my veins. The challenges were not loud or cinematic, but they were persistent, gnawing at my spirit until I wondered if I could endure. And yet, I did. Against odds that seemed endless, I managed the one thing many never get to — the privilege of growing older. To slow down, to look back, to reminisce about the memories created along the way.

Survival did not mean I never failed or broke down. I did, many times. But each breakdown carried a lesson, each failure planted resilience. The fact that I endured long enough to appreciate both the struggles and the fleeting joys is itself a victory I once thought impossible.

When I look at my younger self, I no longer judge. I feel sorrow for the battles endured and gratitude for the strength they forged. My younger self was not weak — they were surviving in the only way they knew how. Every struggle stretched me further. Every year added another layer of resilience. Survival transformed into growth, and growth into compassion.

So when I imagine my future self whispering, “You survived, and that was enough,”. It is the reminder that even in the darkest days I did not succumb to the challenges but I resisted long enough to make it to the next day.

Day 5: Feeling Bored

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It’s just been the fifth day of me, trying to maintain a consistent habit of writing a blog. I am already feeling like just giving up.

More than writing a blog consistently, I wanted to keep this blog as a way to keep myself accountable to the changes that I want to make in my life. I keep stalling on things such as waking up early and trying to exercise or even meditate for that matter.

The worst part of it all is that I still have not started reading my bible every day. I really want to be closer to God before I close my eyes not for the fear of hell or death. I just feel guilty that He was the one person that showed me consistent love, and I haven’t even begun to start loving him back.

Starting tomorrow I am going to make that conscious effort to read the bible and prayer before I start my day. Hopefully one day it becomes a necessity rather than a forced habit.

The items that broke my bank

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I am a calculated impulsive buyer. I do not know if that makes sense.

Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).

It’s just that when I really want to buy something especially if the item in question is on the higher end of my usual spending bracket I take my time.

The “take my time” statement does not make sense when I call my self impulsive. Self Contradictory. To put things into perspective, the desire to buy is impulsive. As soon as I see something I like I want to buy it! The only thing that restricts me is my need for financial stability.

I end up saving for the item first. I take my time and restrict my expenses to the come up with the money to buy it. Sometimes by the time I save the money the item is out of the market and I loose the chance to buy it. However, on the other hand there are few items that I did end up buying.

My largest spends till date are: my Samsung Flip phone, my iPad and my Sony Camera. These may not be “pricey” according to some peoples standards but with my education expenses buying even these were a challenge.

Totally worth the wait and worth the cost! I think the wait to buy it made the actual purchase even more special!

Music beyond Genre

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What is your favorite genre of music?

I have never had a proper understanding of the different genres of music. In fact for a long time, I did not even know that there were different genres.

My mom and sister love listening to music so I never was a stranger to it. Add to that the fact that I was 5 when I first joined the junior choir, it was a natural progression that I would develop an interest in music of my own.

My music interest started with gospel music. Closer to my teens I developed my interest in music separate from my family. Though I was not aware of it at that time I believe that I automatically divert towards “Pop” music.

Though pop music has always been my top choice that spans across languages. I have ventured into other genres like R&B, Blues, Hip-hop, rock etc..

I love exploring new music and listening to artists from different regions. Music is my daily requirement now. I listen to music when I work, when I study, when I cook even at times when I sleep. Genres have never restricted my choice or interest in music and I hope that I continue to love music in its many forms.

Undisturbed Routine

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Describe your ideal week.

Ideal week?

To me, the ideal week would be when I achieve all that I set to achieve for the week.

I wanna be able to wake up every morning, pray sincerely, complete my morning exercise, prepare my meals. Then, go to work and complete all the targets for the day, share some good conversations with my friends. At the end of work, get back home and take some time to maybe do some art or something I like. And finally have a good nights rest..

I would say something is ideal when not much goes wrong. I know it is challenges that help us grow, but some days you just want to live without a care in the world.

However, as much as I like a carefree life, I know that I would definitely get bored of it soon. But maybe once in awhile, little break wouldn’t harm anyone.

Sleep.. Read.. Eat..

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How do you relax?

When somebody talks about relaxation, the first thing that comes to my mind is sleep.

I love sleeping. After working 12 hours days, my comfortable bed and warm blanket seems like heaven. It is my dream to sleep for 15 hours at a stretch, but somehow I always wake up at an eight hour mark.

The second most relaxing thing for me is a nice novel and a hot cup of hot chocolate. Reading always relaxes my mind. It takes me to places that can literally only be imagined. It’s somehow helps me forget all the worries of this world. The book literally transports me to a place in time where everything seems magical.

And of course, though I am not a foodie, good comfort food, really relaxes my soul. when I eat food that is prepared by either mom, dad or my elder sister for that moment, everything seems right with the world. It doesn’t matter that I had people yell at me throughout the day all that the frustration at work reached to a point where I just wanted to bang my head against the wall. Home made food always makes me feel better.

And in summation, sleep for the body, read for the mind and eat for the soul. The perfect recipe for relaxing day.