I Don’t Know If Peaches Tastes Good With Condensed Milk....

Writing Prompt #210:

The war has been going on for over a 100 years now. Not that you’ve ever seen it, having been born in a bunker and remained here your entire life. You’ve heard the stories however, of the horrors and dangers out there.

Today, as your family is watching the news, one of the reporters snaps, “I can’t do this anymore. Everything is lie! They’re lying to you! Th-“ and the signal cut out."

In the dim light of the bunker, the flickering screen cast uneasy shadows on the walls. Your family sat in stunned silence, eyes wide as the news anchor's final, frantic words echoed in your ears.

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"Everything is a lie!"

The room seemed to close in as your mind raced. What could be true if the reports were fabrications? You’d always believed the stories of devastation and endless conflict were real, the stories your family told to keep you safe and to explain why you couldn’t ever go outside.

Your father’s face, usually so composed, was now a mask of worry. "It’s just a breakdown," he said quickly, though his voice betrayed his anxiety. "The reporters are under a lot of pressure. Don’t let this shake you."

But something had shifted. The old walls of your reality felt suddenly fragile, and the idea that the world outside might be different—maybe even safe—had begun to seep into your thoughts. Your mother, who had always warned against the dangers of the outside world, seemed unusually quiet, her eyes darting nervously.

"What if it’s true?" you asked, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

Your father glanced at the door as if fearing it might burst open at any moment. "Even if it is, we have to stay here. It's too dangerous outside."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken fears and the flickering uncertainty of the old news feed that had just cut out. The bunker, once a sanctuary, now felt more like a cage. As you sat there, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the world than the dark tales you had been told—a world you might never see if you stayed hidden in the shadows.

Maybe I wasn’t praying hard enough. Maybe He has another plan— a beautiful one. But God, that was so painful. I don’t have anyone to talk to, and no one takes me seriously. Maybe it’s because I always laugh at tragedy, having grown so used to it.

I just had to take it easy. So much for rushing. Good night!

Any good series recommendations besides Reacher?

hahahahahaha!

Sometimes, I feel like I’m living a life I don’t fully deserve. No matter how many achievements I rack up, or how many times people praise my work, there’s this persistent voice in my head whispering that it’s all a fluke. That I don’t belong here. That I’m fooling everyone.

Imposter syndrome is like an unwelcome guest that shows up in the quiet moments, casting doubt on everything I’ve accomplished. It tells me that my success is an accident, that eventually, someone is going to figure out I’m not as capable as I seem. I look at others who seem to move through life with ease, confident and self-assured, and wonder how they do it—how they walk around without the constant fear of being “found out.”

For me, every new challenge feels like a test I might not pass. Even when I’ve prepared, even when I know my stuff, there’s that nagging feeling that somehow, I’m not good enough. The worst part is how easy it is to downplay my own efforts. I’ll tell myself, “It wasn’t that hard,” or, “Anyone could’ve done that,” as if minimizing my work will shield me from the possibility of failure.

But that doesn’t make the fear go away. It just hides it beneath layers of self-doubt. Instead of celebrating my victories, I question them. Instead of owning my success, I attribute it to luck or timing, convinced that at any moment, everything could come crashing down.

The thing is, I know I’m not alone in this feeling. So many of us walk around with this invisible weight, afraid that one wrong step will expose us. But I also know that those feelings aren’t truth—they’re just fear disguised as fact. And though I struggle with it, I’m learning that I don’t have to listen to that voice. I can acknowledge it without letting it dictate how I live.

Because the truth is, I’ve worked hard for what I’ve achieved. I’ve earned my place, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. And just because I grapple with feelings of inadequacy doesn’t mean I am inadequate.

It’s a journey, learning to silence the imposter in my head, but I’m on the path. Every day, I remind myself that I’m not just faking it—I’m showing up, doing the work, and becoming the person I’m meant to be.

My mind won’t let me rest at night

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

Dreams are strange things. They take us to places beyond our imagination, and sometimes, they’re so vivid that we wake up questioning what’s real. For weeks now, I’ve been having a recurring dream where I talk to a genie every night. The weird part? I could never remember what I wished for when I woke up. It was like my subconscious was playing hide-and-seek with the details, leaving me with a hazy memory of the conversation but no clue what I’d actually asked for.

But then came that morning. The one where I opened my eyes, stretched out my right arm, and… it wasn’t there. Instead of my usual hand and arm, a massive crab pincer had taken its place. I froze, staring at the monstrous claw attached to my shoulder, a mix of horror and disbelief washing over me. This couldn’t be real, could it? I had to be dreaming still, right?

I did what any rational person would do: I pinched myself with the claw. Let me tell you, crab pincers are no joke. The pain was very real, and with that, the reality of the situation sunk in. Somehow, someway, my dream wish had manifested into this bizarre and terrifying reality.

After the initial shock, the questions flooded in. How could this have happened? Why a crab pincer, of all things? I tried to think back to the previous night’s dream, but as always, the memory was foggy. Maybe I’d wished for something vague, like “strength” or “protection,” and the genie had interpreted that in the weirdest possible way. Or perhaps I’d made some offhand joke about having a tough exterior. Whatever the reason, here I was, the unfortunate owner of a giant crustacean claw.

So, what do you do when you wake up with a crab pincer for an arm? First, I panicked. Then, I did what I always do when life throws something inexplicable at me: I adapted.

I spent the next few days learning to navigate life with my new appendage. Simple tasks like opening doors, brushing my teeth, or even typing became Herculean challenges. But with practice, I started to get the hang of it. I learned to use the pincer delicately, avoiding crushing everything I touched. I even found it had some unexpected perks—like cracking open coconuts or, if I’m being honest, scaring off unwanted attention.

But beyond the practicalities, this experience forced me to think deeply about identity and change. How much of who we are is tied to our physical form? How do we adapt when something so fundamental about ourselves is altered overnight? The crab pincer became a symbol of resilience, a reminder that even in the face of the absurd, we have the power to adapt, to find humor, and to continue moving forward.

In the end, I’ve come to embrace my new reality, as strange as it is. I still don’t know what I wished for that led to this, and maybe I never will. But maybe that’s the point. Life is unpredictable, and sometimes, the wishes we make in the depths of our dreams lead to outcomes we never could have imagined. The important thing is how we respond to those outcomes—how we choose to grow, change, and find strength, even when life hands us something as bizarre as a crab pincer for an arm.

And who knows, maybe tonight I’ll dream of that genie again and finally get some answers. Until then, I’ll keep pinching myself—both literally and figuratively—just to remind myself that this wild journey is, indeed, real.

There’s something irresistible about seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, isn’t there? The way everything glows with possibility, how hope somehow softens reality’s harsh edges. I’ve always been that person—the one who walks straight into the fire, not quite realizing until it’s too late that I’m bound to get burned.

When I meet someone new, be it a friend or a lover, I’m quick to embrace the beauty in them. I’m captivated by their quirks, their charm, their flaws that I somehow convince myself I can fix. It’s as though I’m spellbound by the idea that, despite what everyone else sees, this connection is different. "No," I think, "they don’t understand." And while the people around me see warning signs flashing like bright neon lights, I remain oblivious, wrapped in the fantasy I’ve built around this person or situation.

Perhaps it’s my unwavering belief in the good in people, or maybe it’s the romantic in me that refuses to let go of the narrative that love, friendship, or loyalty can conquer all. Others whisper in my ear, gentle but firm, “Can’t you see? This is going to hurt you.” But their words are like smoke in the wind—there one moment, gone the next—unable to penetrate the dream I’m living in.

Time and time again, I find myself drawn to those whose hearts are closed off, whose intentions aren’t pure, or whose presence in my life is anything but good for me. Yet, I stay. I convince myself that if I just hold on a little longer, the tide will turn, the light will shine through the cracks, and things will change. I remain, steadfast in my denial, until—inevitably—the story crumbles, and the weight of reality hits me like a wave.

And then, there’s the aftermath. The unraveling of everything I thought I knew, the sudden clarity that leaves me breathless, wondering how I didn’t see it all along. It’s a bittersweet symphony, really—this constant cycle of falling for the wrong people, making excuses, ignoring the inevitable, only to be left standing in the ruins of what could have been.

But I suppose that’s the price of seeing the world in a way that others don’t. I chase after the dream, the ideal, the promise of something beautiful, even if it’s fleeting. And though it often leaves me with scars, there’s something tragically romantic about the fact that I’m willing to risk the fall. Because deep down, I believe that one day, amidst all the red flags I so easily ignore, I’ll find something real, something worth holding on to.

Until then, I’ll continue to stumble blindly through the mess, still hopeful, still searching, and still seeing the world with those rose-colored glasses—until they finally shatter.

Good night!

Disconnect to Reconnect: Why social media detox is good for your mental health - A Personal Journey

In today's digital age, social media has become an integral part of our daily lives, offering us connectivity, entertainment, and a platform for self-expression. However, amidst the curated feeds and constant updates, there lies a hidden impact on our mental well-being that often goes unnoticed: the exacerbation of insecurities, anxiety, and low self-esteem.

The Allure and the Pitfalls

Social media presents an idealized version of reality, where filters and carefully crafted posts portray seemingly flawless lives. Scrolling through these feeds can unintentionally lead us down a path of comparison, triggering feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. We find ourselves unconsciously measuring our lives against highlight reels, forgetting that behind every perfect picture lies a story untold.

The Pressure to Conform

Platforms thrive on engagement, driving us to seek validation through likes, comments, and shares. This pursuit of approval can escalate into a cycle of seeking external validation, where our self-worth becomes intertwined with digital metrics. The fear of missing out (FOMO) further intensifies as we witness others seemingly living their best lives, fostering a sense of inadequacy if our own experiences don't measure up.

Impact on Mental Health

Research increasingly links heavy social media use to heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and diminished self-esteem. Constant exposure to filtered realities can distort our perception of normalcy, fostering unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others. The pressure to maintain an online persona can lead to anxiety about image, performance, and social acceptance, detracting from genuine self-discovery and acceptance.

Rediscovering Authenticity and Self-Worth

Logging off social media offers a respite from the relentless noise of comparison and validation-seeking. It provides an opportunity to reconnect with our authentic selves, away from the pressures of digital expectations. By stepping back, we can recalibrate our perspectives, focusing on personal growth, real-life connections, and meaningful experiences that nurture genuine happiness and self-esteem.

Cultivating Healthy Digital Habits

Rather than abandoning social media entirely, cultivating mindful usage habits can promote a healthier relationship with digital platforms. Setting boundaries, such as limiting screen time, curating feeds that inspire rather than induce envy, and prioritizing offline activities can foster a balanced approach to social media consumption. Engaging intentionally and authentically can transform our digital interactions into sources of inspiration and connection, rather than triggers for insecurity and anxiety.

Embracing Self-Discovery and Growth

Ultimately, the journey towards combating insecurities, anxiety, and low self-esteem begins with self-awareness and self-compassion. It involves recognizing the influence of social media on our mental well-being and consciously choosing moments of digital detox to prioritize inner peace and self-discovery. By nurturing a positive self-image rooted in authenticity and resilience, we empower ourselves to navigate life's challenges with clarity, confidence, and genuine fulfillment.

In the quiet spaces between notifications and updates lies the opportunity to reclaim our sense of self-worth and embrace the beauty of our imperfect, yet extraordinary, lives. Logging off social media, even momentarily, can be the first step towards rediscovering the profound joy of being truly present in our own stories.