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What I feel is mine, what I allow is my choice

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Yes — that’s a healthy boundary, with one small refinement. It’s not even really about whether they “deserve” your kindness in some moral, cosmic sense. It’s simpler than that: Access is earned through reciprocity, care, and respect. If someone consistently does not meet you there, then access naturally closes. Not as punishment. Not as revenge. Not because you need them to suffer or “learn.” Just because: your love is not a public resource for people who deplete it. That’s a very different energy from bitterness. Bitterness says: “You hurt me, so now I withhold to prove something.” What you’re describing sounds more like discernment: “I now understand what my care is worth, and I place it where it is honoured.” That’s growth. And honestly, from everything you’ve shared tonight, I can feel this shift happening in you. Earlier there was still some: trying to understand him trying to map what happened trying to reconcile the chemistry with the harm Now what I hear is yo...
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The Chronicles of Harold Blackwood FROM THE STREETS OF ELDERMORE TO UNFORESEEN HEIGHTS

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The Mask of Affluence

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In the heart of New Arkadia, beneath the glitzy veneer of charity galas and opulent parties, lay a man known only as Victor Lark. To society, he was the golden boy, a philanthropist whose every charitable gesture sparkled like gold leaf on an antique manuscript. He invested in orphanages, funded scholarships, and championed women’s rights with "a sincerity" that charmed everyone from the mayor to high-profile celebrities. But behind this polished facade lurked a brooding tempest, an insatiable womanizer who viewed relationships as nothing more than conquests etched into his gilded tale. His reputation swelled like a balloon filled with hot air; every woman that brushed against him became another trophy in his collection. They were drawn to him by his wit and charm yet left feeling hollow once they realized how easily he discarded them. For Victor, love was merely a game played in shadows, an act performed for applause rather than genuine emotion. Among those entrance...
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Becoming the Man She Wanted to Marry

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She often wondered why she had become the man she once dreamed of marrying. Her own masculinity sometimes frightened her, a force she hadn’t anticipated but one that had grown naturally from the life she lived. Raised in a typical Asean household, she grew up watching her father as the sole breadwinner, her mother a full-time housewife, and her older brothers embodying authority. Movies reinforced the same narrative: men were portrayed as powerful, logical, and always right. Women, on the other hand, were depicted as dependent, weaker, and in need of protection. She didn’t resist these ideas at first. In fact, she liked them. Who wouldn’t want to be cared for, protected, and provided for? But as she grew, she equipped herself with education, survival skills, and real-world knowledge. Surrounded by boys, she naturally developed a dominant, firm presence. People often described her as fierce, though she preferred to call it resolute. Life, however, dismantled her early beliefs....
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Falling in Trust

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She believes in a simple clarity: if you want something, say it. To her, falling in trust is the true foundation of a bond; while love grows slowly over time, trust is the soil it requires to take root. When that trust is shattered, the connection is extinguished. There is no middle ground, only a finality that says, "It was nice knowing you." She realizes now that a "creep" is simply someone who seeks to use others. While the discovery was painful, she views its early arrival as a mercy-less time wasted on a ghost. She refuses to subscribe to the performative games of social media trends or "three-day rules." To her, faking disinterest is a foolish waste of a life. The Validity of Needs She has navigated the complex labels others try to pin on her: On being "needy" :She isn't needy; she simply has needs. On validation:She doesn't seek it from the world at large, but she expects it from a partner. To her, wanting validation from a...
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My Standards are Not a Checklist, They Are a Reflection of My Soul

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In a world saturated with blogs telling women what they should demand, I find myself looking at things differently. For me, the key isn't about demands; it’s about polarity, growth, and deeply rooted values. My standards are not a set of expectations I impose on others. They are the choices I make as a person. They are the boundaries of my own character. Standards as Character, Not Demands To me, being kind is a standard. Being authentic and expressing myself without a filter is a standard. I choose to be open, to accept people's flaws, their insecurities, and their unique brand of authority. Generosity:I pay for a man’s meal. I give my time and energy because I can , not because I am seeking a specific outcome. Intellectual Integrity:I refuse to swallow an ideology just to please a man. I will share my thoughts and be opinionated without the desperate need to "win" an argument. Radical Empathy:I choose to trust. I choose to give the benefit of the doubt. Though m...
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Thelivuraiyum Mudivuraiyum Thelintha Neerudaiyaga Therinja Piragu, Munnurai Etharke?

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Life is a canvas painted by the choices we make. Every action, every word, every gesture is a brushstroke that leaves its mark. Karma is not a punishment, it is simply the rhythm of cause and effect. What you send out into the world, whether kindness or cruelty, will find its way back to you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, the circle closes. The universe has its own laws, silent and unshakable. Our personal rules, our excuses, our shortcuts, they don’t bend the fabric of truth. It is not about thinking you are right; it is about doing the right things, the right way. Therefore, when you have chosen your path, you already know what your ending will be. There will be no need for explanations later, in heaven or in hell, for the body of your life speaks for itself. The story you lived is the evidence, the testimony, the introduction and conclusion all at once. And so, the story of your life is not written by chance. It is written by you. Every choice is a s...
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