Baskadia

Once, there was a girl who yearned for a sweet ending. She lived amidst high expectations, always believing that everything would unfold as she envisioned. Yet, she was also a girl who was deeply afraid of failing.

She thought her path was good, but from the very beginning, it wasn’t what she had hoped. Despite her doubts, she continued, convinced that perseverance would bring her success. However, her thoughts misled her.

Failure struck unexpectedly, and it hurt deeply. In her pain, she turned to coffee, hoping it would soothe her troubled heart. But instead, it brought her face-to-face with harsh reality. As the truth sank in, she wanted to cry out loud, but all she could manage were silent tears. She didn’t want anyone to see her suffering, so she pretended to be okay.

Her dreams lay in pieces, her mind never at ease. She longed for peace, a respite from the negative thoughts swirling in her head. Every time she encountered a situation similar to her own, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why? Didn’t I do my best? Or was my best not enough?” The feelings she dreaded were consuming her from within. Everything felt scattered, and reassurances of “it’s okay” couldn’t mend her broken spirit.

She felt a profound sorrow for herself and even more for her parents. Their silent expectations, their efforts, and sacrifices weighed heavily on her. Her mind was nearing its breaking point, tears falling uncontrollably. She wanted to be the daughter her parents dreamed of, to bring them pride and glory. But how could she, when she had failed so suddenly and completely? This journey, which she thought would end in success, had become a haunting nightmare.

Days turned into nights, blending seamlessly. She found solace in small moments, like the warmth of her coffee cup. Each sip became a reminder of her resilience, a brief escape from the chaos in her mind. She began to see her coffee rituals as a reflection of her untold stories, each cup a chapter, each sip a whisper of her silent struggles.

Yet, the comfort she sought in coffee often gave way to sad realities. She wished she could revert to her old self with just one sip, but each sip only unraveled more painful memories. She wished she could brush off the pain, but it clung to her, like a stubborn stain that wouldn’t fade.

Despite her efforts to move forward, she still hadn't found a reason to break the chains that bound her. Every day, she grappled with a lack of courage to step out of her comfort zone. Shame clung to her, a constant reminder that she hadn't succeeded in the way she had hoped.

She was trapped in a spectrum where those painful moments replayed endlessly in her mind. Each day, she saw her failures like a film on repeat, taunting her, holding her back from embracing the present.

She knew she needed help. Help to accept reality. Help to start anew. She needed to rebuild her confidence, brick by fragile brick. But how could she do that when she couldn’t even forgive herself?

She felt shattered, broken, and lost. Every piece of her seemed irreparable. The burden of self-blame weighed heavily on her shoulders, and she struggled to find a way to lift it.

In her heart, she knew the journey to healing would be long and arduous. Yet, she couldn't deny that deep down, she longed for change. She was tired of living in the shadows of her past. She wanted to embrace the future with open arms.

As she sipped her coffee, she thought about the steps she needed to take. The first would be the hardest: forgiving herself. She had to believe that she was worthy of love and redemption, despite her mistakes. Only then could she start to mend the broken parts of her soul.

She was the person who was shattered, broken, and lost. And in that moment of quiet reflection, she began to understand that acknowledging her pain was the first step to

ward healing.

She was me.