26/11/2025
November 26th — Late Night
My own blueprint for greatness mocks me in the silence.
I am a ghost haunting the life I was meant to live. A king who built a castle in the clouds, but sleeps in the dirt at its gates.
Today, I only studied for 30 minutes. A flicker, when I promised the sun.
I can still feel the ghost of that 5-hour day in my bones—proof that a giant sleeps inside this skin. But tonight, he is silent. And all I hear is the whisper of failure, cold and familiar.
Yet—even now—something in me refuses to surrender.
Maybe greatness isn’t about becoming a giant all at once. Maybe it’s about the quiet, tear-streaked courage to light a match in the wind, and shield it with your hands until it holds.
Tomorrow… I will rise. Not as a king. Not as a hero. But as a boy with shaky hands and a stubborn heart, choosing one more page. One more hour. One more fight.
I may be the last today. But my soul remembers the man I wrote into existence. And I will spend every breath I have chasing him down.
—MD Istiyak Ahmed
Still spinning silk from the raw thread of my will.
