Coffee Plants and Endless Thoughts!

It is the one thing we all have in common, the prize for being slaves to time. I know no art or heart, only words and words alone—empty, meaningless vocabulary crying out and withering in pain. The question that haunts me at this late hour is appalling: death is neither a beginning nor an end. Don’t we all die, but why? Why do we always question death? Is it life that accompanies death, or is death the consequence of life? I ponder aimlessly, finding neither answers nor the courage to seek them out. This burgeoning, evil bastard does not acknowledge our existence. Did we have a choice in birth, or do we have a choice in death? What have life and death come to? Some deaths kill us from within, and some deaths heal us. The deaths of others often end up killing us from the inside, yet the death of oneself is the one and only thing that heals. This futile state—this choice less, senseless phase called existence—seems meaningless. What is death? Who gets to decide death? Is death the only s...

The improbable convergence of "identity," and "life" in a single sentence seems almost surreal. Yet, against all odds, it happens. This past year has been a tumultuous journey, to put it mildly. I've battled demons from my past, grappling with thoughts that threatened to derail my career and obscure my sense of self. It was an ongoing struggle against my own mind, a battle where I often felt lost and adrift. I wrestled with shame and internal conflict, facing skepticism and even disgust from my own family. To provide context, I've decided to abandon discretion and speak my truth, both to myself and those around me. While I'm proud of the battles I've fought, today I find myself here—dejected, disappointed, yet somehow still grasping at shards of happiness, whispering to myself, "I'm proud, and it will be okay." In August 2023, I received a diagnosis of clinical depression. For two months, I denied that anything was wrong, struggling to ...