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Just some random opinions/thoughts of mine. Feel free to go against any of them.

Hepimizin yaşadığı  bir sorun olamasa da bir çoğumuzun bu hayatta yaşadığı ve bundan muzdarip olduğunu biliyoruz. Bu yüzden  duyguların psikolojik olarak hayatımızı nasıl kararttığını ve  bu dönemlerde neler hissettiğimizi anlatmak istedim. Bu kitap deneme ve tartışma yazısı gibi olacaktır. Birebir bu durumları yaşayan biri olarak kendi ağzımdan size psikolojik hayatımı ve bu duyguların bende nelerin götürdüğünü anlatmayı hedefliyorum. Gerçekten birilerinin de bunları okurken ya ben tek değilmişim demesi ve onunla paylaştığım ortak bir hayat yaşadığımızı anlatmak istiyorum. İlk psikolojik kitabım Silinik Kalpler okuyucularımı ve tüm duygusal kardeşlerimi içine alacağına eminim. Kitap 10-12 bölüm olacağını düşünüyorum. Şimdiden yorumlarınızı ve desteklerinizi bekliyorum. Teşekkürler Naksu ailesi ....

hey ya'll

I'll be sharing my real life incidents with ya'll and I would love to hear your opinions too It would be fun!!!

I've realised lately that many of my fellow pens are still slogging through highschool.

As some have realised, I'm old. But some problems never go away.

I have a happy ending. And I wish to be a help to those struggling. So.

Allow my words to comfort you where they lay. If there's any topics you'd like to see let me know.

Blue,

It always seems to rain when I arrive in Tokyo.

The raindrops streak across the train window as the city unfolds in muted grey, its skyline softened by mist. Neon lights flicker in puddles along the streets, their reflections rippling beneath the steady hum of a restless metropolis. Tokyo in the rain is a city that slows, its usual rhythm softened under a sea of umbrellas. The scent of simmering broth drifts from the noren-covered doorways of ramen shops, footsteps echo in narrow alleyways, and for a brief moment, the city belongs only to those who linger.

Tokyo is not unfamiliar to me. My aunt lives here, as do my cousins, and so from a young age, I found myself returning, the city etching itself into my life, one visit at a time. To me, Japan was never a distant place, never just a holiday destination. It was a second home, of sorts-a place where family meals were shared over ceramic bowls of steaming rice, where the voices of relatives filled rooms warmed by the hum of a kotatsu. It was where I first learned the language, not through textbooks, but through conversations at the dinner table, through laughter, through the casual corrections of an amused aunt who never let me get away with clumsy grammar.

But familiarity does not always mean belonging. Tokyo is a city that remains just beyond my grasp-one that I know intimately, yet can never claim as my own. I walk its streets with the ease of someone who has been here before, yet always with the awareness that I remain an outsider.

Perhaps that is why I return.

When it rains in Tokyo, the city takes on a different shape-quieter, more introspective. The usual facades blur, the edges soften. And in those moments, I find myself looking at the city, and at my place within it, with new eyes.

This book is not an attempt to define Tokyo, nor to explain it. It is simply a record of what I have seen, what I have felt, and what remains when the rain begins to fall.

its just gonna be mini life updates

Raised under London's ever-changing skies, I have always belonged to more than one place. My roots, though firmly planted in the English soil, stretched far beyond these shores, entwining with the vibrant, pulsating heart of Hong Kong-my seasonal sanctuary. Every summer, like clockwork, I would traverse continents to reconnect with my family, immersing myself in a city as multifaceted as it was mesmerising. Hong Kong, with its eclectic mix of cultures and its inhabitants-quirky, unfiltered, and endearing-welcomed me as both an insider and an outsider, a guest and a native son.

Despite the miles that separated us, my heritage was more than just the sum of my time in Hong Kong. It was a patchwork of influences-the fragrant whispers of Teochew, the gentle echoes of Taiwan, the understated grace of Japan, and the culinary traces of Malaysia, a nod to my grandmother's lineage. Returning to Hong Kong was never just a visit; it was a dive into the depths of my multicultural heritage, a reminder of the familiar yet ever-shifting landscape of my identity.

Growing up as an Asian boy in England, I straddled two worlds-never quite local, never entirely foreign. At school, I was the anomaly, the kid who packed cha siu bao alongside his crisps. In Hong Kong, I was the cousin with an unmistakable London lilt. Yet, rather than resent this in-betweenness, I learned to embrace it. Belonging was never about geography; it was about connection, curiosity, and the stories we collect along the way.

This book is a distillation of those stories-a collection of essays and reflections on identity, memory, and the quiet contradictions of a life lived between cultures. It is an attempt to make sense of the push and pull of belonging, the bittersweet nostalgia of places that change as soon as we leave them, and the universal search for home in an increasingly transient world.

its just about how even if ur life isnt shit because of external factors ........it can always be shit because of internal factors..........because ur the good old painfully inadequate YOU  ( read if ur stuck in a mental state u just cant get out of) .........

keeping track of themes and layouts