One little moment.
A little collection of ordinary days and changing perspectives.
Come as you are. Read at your own pace.
33 entries
we have more freedom to shape our lives than many people before us did, but somehow that freedom also comes with the pressure to choose correctly. now in my mid-twenties, with graduation getting closer and the old structure slowly disappearing, i’m starting to understand how strange it is to build a future when almost every direction feels possible and none of them feels completely mine yet.
i want to be different, but not too different. ordinary enough to fit in, unique enough to feel like myself. somewhere between wanting to be understood and quietly hiding the parts of me that make me who i am. maybe i'm not afraid of being ordinary. maybe i'm just afraid of being forgettable.
i spent most of my life trying not to disappoint people. saying yes, being useful, staying available, making myself easy to rely on. lately, i don’t care as much anymore. if someone leaves because i stopped exhausting myself to keep them comfortable, i think i can finally let them.
i like the feel of feeling. even when it hurts. even when i wish i could feel less. sometimes a song, a memory, or something ridiculously small brings back things i thought i'd forgotten. and somehow, i keep returning to them. maybe it's not the sadness i like, but knowing that things still matter to me. even the ones i pretend i've moved on from.
i don’t really know when it happened. somewhere between growing up, trying to keep up, and being tired for longer than i realised, i went from someone who was curious about everything to someone who struggles to start anything. the weird part is that i still want things. i just don’t always know how to reach the version of me who used to go after them.
i think one of the scariest things is knowing that parts of my life are already disappearing. old conversations. ordinary days. people i once knew closely. maybe that’s why i keep photos, messages, random notes, even things that seem completely unimportant. small proof that i was there. that this version of me existed. because losing a memory feels a little too much like losing a piece of myself.
不知道从什么时候开始，生活慢慢失去了原本的色彩。曾经对未来充满期待的自己，如今连迈出一步都觉得困难。想逃离，想重新开始，想被理解，也想被认真爱着。有时候觉得一个人也挺好，有时候却又羡慕别人拥有的归属感。明明知道自己不想继续这样生活，却不知道该从哪里改变。偶尔会想，如果一切能够重来，另一个世界的我，会不会活成小时候期待的模样。
i used to be someone who could study for hours and get things done. now i can barely convince myself to open my laptop, even when i know exactly what needs to be done. i've been looking back at my childhood, questioning my habits, and wondering if i've had adhd all along. somewhere between growing up, moving abroad, and trying to finish my degrees, i think i've lost track of myself a little. i don't know if i need a break, a change of direction, or just some help figuring things out. maybe all three.
i have so many things i want to do, so many versions of myself i want to become. yet somehow, i spend more time thinking about starting than actually starting. living with adhd in my mid-20s feels like being caught between ambition and paralysis. it's not that i don't care. maybe i care about too many things at once. and sometimes, the hardest part isn't doing the work. it's convincing my brain to begin.
i’m slowly recovering from last week’s mental meltdown, except i can’t remember what triggered it. i remember how much it hurt, just not what happened. somehow, learning about rejection sensitive dysphoria made me look at my past a little differently. and now i’m wondering how many things i’ve forgotten while still carrying the feelings they left behind.
a delayed reply. a different tone. a small criticism. things that seem ordinary to everyone else can somehow ruin my entire day. i’ve been learning about rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD), and it explains a little too much about the way i react, withdraw, and overthink. i guess this is my attempt to explain why some of my previous entries feel heavier than the situations themselves.
i don't think love has to be perfect. i just want to feel understood without having to explain every little part of myself. to be someone's future, but also someone they're curious about in the present. maybe that's what hurts the most. being loved, but still wondering if i'm truly seen.
i went quiet for days, secretly hoping someone would notice. no messages. no check-ins. just me checking my phone over and over, waiting for someone to ask if i'm okay. i don't think i wanted attention. i just wanted to feel like my absence mattered to someone. and maybe that's what hurts the most. realising how badly i wanted to be looked for.
i used to think i was just bad at dealing with people. maybe too sensitive. maybe expecting too much. but over the years, i started wondering how much of who we become is actually our own choice, and how much is shaped by a world that keeps teaching us to protect ourselves. i don't think i hate people. i think i'm just tired of watching what the world turns us into. and the annoying part is, i still care.
the city disappeared into fog tonight. meanwhile, i’ve been trying to understand why the smallest things can hurt so much. learning about RSD made some things click, but knowing why i feel this way doesn’t make it any easier. i want someone to notice my silence, yet i’m the one choosing not to speak.
three days of work in a row, and somehow an extra monday closing shift was exactly what i needed. wiping tables, organising things, keeping my hands busy. anything to get away from the noise in my head. i've been unusually sensitive to everything lately, even the smallest interactions. tonight, i chose my bedroom over my usual desk, and silence over conversations. nothing is asking anything from me here. i think that's what i needed.
another teammate is leaving, and somehow i barely reacted. no panic, no anger. just this invisible pressure slowly building in my head while i pretend everything is fine. i don't know how much longer i can keep carrying things like this. the project might fail. i'll deal with it when it happens. quitting, though, hasn't crossed my mind.
recently, even the smallest things have started bothering me. a late reply. a slightly different tone. a conversation that suddenly feels exhausting. i want people close, but somehow i keep pushing them away. idk if it's burnout, overthinking, or just my brain running out of patience. maybe i'm not losing interest in people. maybe i'm just tired.
third gearbox design. 3am bedtime. another train ride to class. sometimes i wonder if there’s just too much to learn and not enough time to figure it all out. or maybe my brain just makes everything a little harder than it needs to be. i love learning. i just wish i had more time to actually enjoy it.
there's always more than one way to do things. from organising a cafe to designing a gearbox, the same thought keeps finding its way back to me. maybe problem-solving isn't always about knowing the right answer. sometimes it's just about looking at the same thing from another angle. or drawing another sketch. or admitting the first idea wasn't that great after all.
A reflection on emotional silence, overthinking, and the quiet fear of reaching out when reassurance feels uncertain.
A burnout-driven thought experiment about emotional withdrawal, reduced effort, and the desire to let everything matter less.
A fragmented reflection on self-awareness, solitude, and the unsettling thought that the world feels real only from inside your own head.
A fragmented, anxious reflection on being 25 and feeling like time is slipping away faster than you can keep up.
A reflection on how everything changes once you find the people you truly feel safe with — and why everyone else slowly fades into the background.
A quiet reflection on a dream where nothing happened — and yet something stayed.
Working on robotic and control systems taught me lessons about people, communication, and unpredictability that no textbook ever covered.
A reflection on what it means when the house you’ve lived in for years begins to change - and how spaces quietly mirror the lives inside them.
A gentle reminder that feeling behind doesn’t mean you actually are.
Lately, nostalgia feels less like a memory and more like a scent - soft, unexpected, and quietly emotional.
A quiet reflection on control, planning, and the moment I realised that letting go doesn’t mean giving up who I am.