Jasnette

02/07/2025

After Maghrib, if it’s not raining, I usually head out and walk a few rounds around the campus oval. It’s not something I plan or push myself to do, it’s just become part of my rhythm. Something simple that I genuinely enjoy.

What I’ve come to love about it is the pace. I walk at my own cadence. No pressure, no rush. Just steady movement that matches how I feel that day. Sometimes slower, sometimes a little more brisk, but always my own pace.

There’s a kind of calm that comes with that. I don’t have to think too much. I’m not checking my phone, not trying to hit a goal, not even counting the laps. I just walk, breathe, and let my thoughts wander or not. Some evenings, I don’t think about anything at all. I just enjoy the cool air and the quiet.

And while walking is known to be good for your body, it helps with blood flow, heart health, and even mental clarity, that’s not really the reason I do it. It just happens to be a nice bonus. What keeps me coming back is how it makes me feel after. A bit lighter. A bit more clear. Like my mind and body had a chance to settle down.

Even if I’m just going in circles, it never feels repetitive. Each round somehow gives me something, a bit of stillness, a bit of ease, a bit of reset.

It’s not a big deal. But it matters to me. Walking at my own cadence, without trying too hard or thinking too much, has become one of the quietest and most grounding parts of my day.

29/06/2025

There is something deeply human about the art of writing. It is not merely ink pressed on paper or characters typed on a screen, it is a quiet unfolding of the heart, a gentle release of thoughts that often have nowhere else to go. Writing is, at its core, a form of expression, pure, personal, and deeply rooted in the need to be understood, even if only for a moment.

When someone writes, it is not always a declaration nor a conclusion. Sometimes it is simply the voice of the present moment, a snapshot of what the mind is carrying and what the heart is learning. Words become a place to lay things down, to sort through the noise, and to find some clarity in the chaos. It is never always about permanence. Life moves. We grow. We outgrow. And what once felt like truth may quietly shift into something else. That’s the beauty of being human, we are allowed to change.

But there is always the quiet hope behind every written line: Please don’t misunderstand me. Writers don’t always ask to be agreed with. Many times, they simply ask to be heard. For writing is not a final statement, it is a living form of expression, meant to reflect, to release, and to resonate.

Even in the face of being misunderstood, a writer continues to write. Because not writing feels like leaving something sacred unsaid. And with every paragraph, there’s a soft reminder to the soul: you are allowed to speak, even if the world doesn't fully understand you yet.

Writing is not always a forever setup. It’s just a chapter, a glimpse, a passing reflection of who you were in that time, in that feeling. But in expressing it, you heal. You grow. You learn.

And with each word, with each pause, with each full stop—you come closer to knowing yourself. That, in itself, is something beautiful. Something hopeful. Something worth sharing.

28/06/2025

There comes a moment in life, not always loud, not always tragic, when you realize that no one is coming to save you.

No one sees the silent battles you fight behind your smile. No one feels the sting of your tears when the door closes and the lights go out. No one hears your quiet pleas in the early hours when your heart aches for a kind voice that never comes. And slowly, like dawn breaking after a long, uncertain night, it hits you: you are all you have.

And it’s not bitterness that fills you. It’s not pride either. It’s something quieter, more sacred—acceptance.

You begin to brush your own hair with gentler hands. You take time to prepare your own meals, not because anyone will thank you, but because your body is the only home you have. You start choosing rest over restlessness, water over wine, peace over people who do not know how to hold you kindly. You speak to yourself like someone worth listening to, because you are.

No longer waiting for someone to check in, you learn to check in with yourself. You ask yourself, “Are you okay?” And some days the answer is no. But even then, you stay.

You stay with yourself.

You begin to recognize that this care, this quiet tending of your heart, your health, your spirit, is not weakness. It is not loneliness. It is love. It is maturity. It is you honoring the very life you’ve been given.

And yes, the world may carry on, distracted and deaf to your needs. But you—you show up. Not perfectly. Not always with strength. But you show up.

And in that quiet, uncelebrated devotion to yourself, there is a courage more profound than the world will ever see.

So you take care of yourself, not because no one ever will, but because you’ve come to understand that the most faithful kind of love is the one you learn to give yourself.

And that is something no one can ever take away.

25/06/2025

...and I so need this.

🤍

📸: a girl with imaan

18/06/2025

Let our hearts be anchored to Allah..

💯

12/06/2025

Busy but never too busy to care. 💛✨️

06/06/2025

25/03/2025

Every sip of a coke float is a reminder that happiness is both simple and sweet.😊

13/04/2024

Stumbling upon seashells on the seashore! ❄️🐚❄️

30/03/2024

Mango-Sago Dessert.🥭🥗

Iftar Meals Dessert Idea 👍

24/03/2024

23/03/2024

Have you been to Sikyop?

Jasnette