u/Bound_By_Ink

To everyone writing NEET PG this month... from someone who once wanted Radiology more than she knew how to explain, here's to you!

With NEET PG coming up this month, I’ve been thinking a lot about the person I was when I was preparing for this exam.

I don't know why but remembering her makes me emotional.

I don't think anyone except me will ever completely understand how badly she wanted this.

I wanted Radiology.

Casually nahi.

Not in a “this would be a nice branch to get” way.

I wanted it with the kind of desperation that becomes difficult to explain to another person without sounding slightly insane.

There was a point when MD Radiodiagnosis wasn't just a course or a branch written somewhere on a counselling list.

It was the dream.

Somewhere along the way, it became so intertwined with my identity that I genuinely couldn't imagine what I would do if I didn't make it.

I remember looking at radiologists and thinking,

One day, please.

I remember seeing MRI images I barely understood and wanting so badly to be the person who could look at those shades of grey and know what they meant.

I wanted to sit in front of that workstation.

I wanted to learn CT.

I wanted to understand MRI.

I wanted to hold an ultrasound probe and actually know what I was looking at.

I wanted someone to someday walk into a department and call me a radiologist.

Such a small sentence.

It meant the fucking world to me.

God, I worked for it.

There were days when I studied well.

Then there were days when studying meant staring at the same page for twenty minutes because my brain had simply stopped cooperating.

There were mornings when I woke up motivated and convinced I was going to destroy this exam.

Then there were nights when I genuinely wondered whether I was intelligent enough to clear it at all.

I watched other people move faster.

I watched people finish revisions while I was still struggling with mine.

I watched ranks, mock scores, recall discussions and Telegram groups slowly turn into different instruments of torture.

There was always somebody scoring more.

Always somebody who had completed another revision.

Always somebody solving more questions.

Always somebody saying,

"Bro, this is my fourth revision."

Meanwhile sometimes I was just trying not to have an existential crisis over something I had already studied three times and somehow forgotten again.

There is a very specific kind of loneliness that comes with preparing for an exam like NEET PG.

Your entire life becomes reduced to numbers.

How many hours did you study?

How many questions did you solve?

What was your GT score?

What percentile?

What rank?

How many revisions?

How many days remaining?

Eventually you stop measuring your life in months and start measuring it in revisions.

People around you continue living.

There are weddings.

Birthdays.

Trips.

Relationships.

Family functions.

People go out.

People fall in love.

People break up.

People move cities.

The world keeps happening.

You're sitting somewhere with a screen or a book in front of you thinking,

Just a little longer.

I'll live after this exam.

I sacrificed so much for that after.

Sleep.

Peace.

Time.

Birthdays.

Conversations.

Parts of my social life.

So many normal days that people my age were simply allowed to enjoy.

There were moments when I was exhausted beyond words but still felt guilty sleeping because somewhere in my head there was always another aspirant studying while I wasn't.

The worst part wasn't even the studying.

It was the fear.

That horrible, awful fear underneath everything.

What if I do all of this and still don't get Radiology?

That question followed me everywhere.

Because when you've given something everything you have, failure stops feeling like “I didn't clear an examination.”

It starts feeling terrifyingly close to,

“Maybe everything I had wasn't enough.”

I know that's not logically true.

But NEET PG preparation isn't always a very logical place.

There were days I doubted myself so badly.

Days when I genuinely thought maybe I had aimed too high.

Maybe Radiology was meant for people smarter than me.

Maybe I should be “realistic.”

Maybe I should have a backup dream.

But I couldn't manufacture one.

I wanted Radio.

That was it.

I was stubborn about it to a ridiculous degree.

Underneath all that stubbornness was this tiny voice that kept saying,

Just keep going.

So I did.

Not gracefully.

That's the part I really want to say.

I did not overcome everything beautifully.

I didn't wake up every morning at 5 AM, meditate, drink three litres of water, solve 300 MCQs and go to bed feeling like the protagonist of some motivational reel.

Some days I was disciplined.

Some days I was a complete mess.

Some days I cried.

Some days I procrastinated and then hated myself for procrastinating.

Some days I felt unstoppable.

Some days opening a book itself felt like an achievement.

I had breakdowns.

I questioned my decisions.

I compared myself to people I shouldn't have compared myself to.

I imagined every possible worst-case scenario.

I mentally calculated ranks and branches approximately 78,000 times.

And somehow...

I kept coming back.

That's probably the biggest thing NEET PG taught me.

You don't have to be fearless to keep going.

You can be absolutely fucking terrified and keep going anyway.

Eventually came the day when something I had imagined so many times stopped being imaginary.

MD Radiodiagnosis.

I wish I could explain what those words meant to me.

When you see the final result, nobody sees everything attached to it.

They see the seat.

They see the branch.

They see the college.

They see “Radiology resident.”

They don't see the nights.

They don't see the panic.

They don't see you calculating possibilities at 2 AM.

They don't see the questions you got wrong and then spent hours convincing yourself meant you were stupid.

They don't see the sacrifices nobody asked you to make.

They don't see how many times you almost stopped believing in yourself.

They don't see the version of you sitting alone somewhere wondering,

Will I ever actually get there?

But you know.

You remember every version of yourself that carried you there.

Now I actually live inside something that once existed only in my imagination.

There are days when residency absolutely destroys me.

There are exhausting postings.

There are difficult cases.

There are times I'm staring at a scan thinking, What the actual fuck am I looking at?

There are things I don't know.

So many things.

There are days Radiology humbles me approximately every seven minutes.

But every once in a while, something happens.

I'll be sitting in front of an MRI.

Or scrolling through a CT.

Or doing an ultrasound.

Or discussing a case.

Somewhere in the middle of an otherwise completely ordinary working day, I suddenly remember:

I wanted this.

I wanted this exact life.

The exhausted resident sitting in the radiology department was once a girl sitting somewhere with her NEET PG material, praying that she'd get the chance to become her.

That thought still stops me sometimes.

Because I know exactly how hard she fought to put me in this chair.

So to everyone appearing for NEET PG this month:

I know you're scared.

I know some of you are looking at your GT scores and quietly panicking.

Some of you don't feel prepared.

Some of you haven't completed the number of revisions you planned.

Some of you are convinced you've forgotten everything.

Some of you are watching your friends perform better and wondering whether you've already lost the race.

Some of you are repeaters carrying the weight of another entire year.

Some of you have families expecting a certain rank.

Some of you desperately want Medicine.

Or Radio.

Or Derma.

Or Surgery.

Or Pediatrics.

Or Psychiatry.

Or Anaesthesia.

Or whatever that one branch is that makes something inside you go,

Please. This one.

Some of you don't even care about the branch anymore.

You are just tired.

I understand.

But please don't decide your result before the exam does.

Don't punish yourself in these last days for all the things you think you should have done differently.

You cannot go back six months and study another chapter.

You cannot retroactively give another GT.

You cannot change the bad weeks.

You cannot recover every wasted day.

That time is gone.

But you still have today.

You still have the knowledge you accumulated on all those days when you thought nothing was going inside your head.

More of it is there than you think.

Trust that person.

Trust the person who kept showing up.

When you walk into that examination centre, for those few hours, stop carrying the entire future on your shoulders.

You don't need to solve your whole life that morning.

You just need to solve one question.

Then the next.

Then the next.

That's it.

If you see something you don't know, breathe and move on.

One question does not get to decide what kind of doctor you are.

Neither does one GT.

Neither does one horrible preparation day.

And honestly?

Neither does one examination.

Yes, NEET PG matters.

I know it matters.

I would be lying if I gave you some philosophical speech pretending rank doesn't change things.

It does.

But your rank is a number describing your performance on one examination. It is not a numerical measurement of your intelligence, your compassion, your potential or the doctor you will eventually become.

Please remember that distinction.

For the person reading this who has one particular branch written somewhere inside their heart...

I hope you get it.

God, I hope you get it.

I hope a few months from now you are standing inside the department you spent nights dreaming about.

I hope somebody calls you “PG.”

I hope you complain about residency.

I hope your seniors irritate you.

I hope you're sleep deprived and drinking terrible hospital coffee and wondering why you ever wanted this life.

Then I hope, on some completely random day, you stop for five seconds and realise:

Holy shit.

I made it.

Because somewhere right now there is a future version of you living a completely ordinary day in the life you're currently fighting for.

Maybe they're wearing scrubs.

Maybe they're holding an ultrasound probe.

Maybe they're scrubbed into an OT.

Maybe they're walking through Medicine rounds.

Maybe they're looking through a microscope.

Maybe they're sitting behind a Radiology workstation like I once dreamed of doing.

You haven't met that version of yourself yet.

But keep going.

They owe their entire existence to the person sitting here reading this.

Someday, when the noise of NEET PG has become a distant memory, I hope you look back at yourself with an unbelievable amount of tenderness.

Not because you never broke down.

Not because you were perfectly disciplined.

Not because you weren't scared.

But because despite being tired, scared, confused and completely unsure whether any of this would work...

you kept going anyway.

I did too.

Somewhere between all those breakdowns, MCQs, forgotten facts, terrible GTs, tiny victories, enormous fears and that ridiculously stubborn dream...

I became a Radiology resident.

Even writing that still does something to me.

Because once upon a time, I would have given almost anything to be able to say those words.

To the version of me who wanted this so desperately:

We made it.

To everyone writing NEET PG this month,

I genuinely, genuinely hope you do too.

Go get your branch. ❤️

Hey Udaipur!

I’ve been wanting to catch an early morning sunrise at Fateh Sagar and go cycling around the lake and since 15th August is coming up, I thought it would be fun to see if anyone else would like to join.

Thinking somewhere around 5:30–6 AM cycle for a while, watch the sunrise, enjoy the relatively empty roads and maybe grab some chai/coffee afterwards.

I’m 28F and would love to have a small group of people around my age join in. You absolutely do NOT need to be a serious cyclist because I’m not trying to qualify for the Tour de France at 6 in the morning.

Just looking for some nice, chill company and a wholesome start to the day.

Also, just to make it clear.. this is NOT a date/dating post. I’m genuinely looking for people who'd be interested in cycling and hanging out as a group.

If you're interested, comment or DM me and maybe we can make a small group if enough people are up for it. :)

Also open to recommendations for bicycle rentals around Fateh Sagar!

​

I'm 29 F 5'8", based in NCR and I work in healthcare. If you've ever known someone in medicine, you know it isn't just a job, it becomes a lifestyle. The odd hours, the missed plans, the emotional exhaustion after some days... I'd love someone who understands that without making me feel guilty for it.

The basics first:

- Age: 29–36.

- Preferably from North India/NCR, simply because I'd like the distance to be manageable.

- I'm 5'8" and almost always wear heels, so I'd ideally like someone who's 5'11" or taller. No disrespect whatsoever to short kings, this is just a personal preference, nothing more.

- Fitness is a huge part of my life. I love to stay active and I'd love someone who enjoys taking care of his health too. You don't have to be a competitive athlete but I do hope fitness is a lifestyle rather than an occasional phase.

- I don't smoke, drink, or use recreational substances and I'm looking for someone with similar habits. It's simply the life I'm happiest living.

- I earn around ₹35-40 LPA. You can earn less or more, it genuinely doesn't matter to me...what matters is that neither of us lets money become an ego battle. I'd rather build a partnership than keep score.

Now for the part that actually matters. :)

I'm not looking for someone who's perfect. I'm looking for someone who's emotionally mature.

Someone who can communicate instead of disappearing.

Someone who's curious instead of defensive.

Someone who can say, "I was wrong," without feeling like they've lost.

Someone who knows that disagreements aren't battles to be won but problems to solve together.

I've learned that attraction fades, careers fluctuate, life gets messy but emotional safety is rare. I want the kind of relationship where both people can be completely themselves without feeling like they're constantly walking on eggshells.

I value kindness. Consistency. Accountability. Effort. I want someone who checks in because he wants to not because he's told to. Someone who doesn't treat vulnerability as weakness. Someone who understands that love isn't built through grand gestures alone but through showing up, especially on ordinary days.

I've always imagined a home that feels warm long before it looks perfect. The kind of place that smells like freshly baked cookies on a Sunday afternoon where dinner is often homemade, music plays softly in the background and people always feel welcome. I love cooking and baking because food has always been my love language. If I care about you, I'll probably remember your favourite meal, make it when you've had a difficult day and quietly show my affection through the little things! Butter chicken and garlic naan are my specialties but what I really hope to create is a home filled with comfort, laughter and the feeling that no matter how chaotic life gets, we've always got each other.

I'm ambitious, financially independent, deeply invested in my career and probably more emotionally aware than the average person. I think a lot, I feel deeply and I care wholeheartedly. I'm not everyone's cup of tea and that's okay. I'm not trying to be.

I'm just hoping there's someone out there who's looking for the same kind of quiet, honest, emotionally healthy love.

I know this probably sounds idealistic in a world that seems to celebrate casual connections and emotional detachment.

I'd rather wait years for something real than spend months pretending something shallow is enough.

If you're someone who still believes emotional maturity, loyalty, consistency and genuine effort aren't old-fashioned... I'd really like to know you.

Happy searching! :)

​

I'm 29 F 5'8", based in NCR and I work in healthcare. If you've ever known someone in medicine, you know it isn't just a job, it becomes a lifestyle. The odd hours, the missed plans, the emotional exhaustion after some days... I'd love someone who understands that without making me feel guilty for it.

The basics first:

- Age: 29–36.

- Preferably from North India/NCR, simply because I'd like the distance to be manageable.

- I'm 5'8" and almost always wear heels, so I'd ideally like someone who's 5'11" or taller. No disrespect whatsoever to short kings, this is just a personal preference, nothing more.

- Fitness is a huge part of my life. I love to stay active and I'd love someone who enjoys taking care of his health too. You don't have to be a competitive athlete but I do hope fitness is a lifestyle rather than an occasional phase.

- I don't smoke, drink, or use recreational substances and I'm looking for someone with similar habits. It's simply the life I'm happiest living.

- I earn around ₹35-40 LPA. You can earn less or more, it genuinely doesn't matter to me...what matters is that neither of us lets money become an ego battle. I'd rather build a partnership than keep score.

Now for the part that actually matters. :)

I'm not looking for someone who's perfect. I'm looking for someone who's emotionally mature.

Someone who can communicate instead of disappearing.

Someone who's curious instead of defensive.

Someone who can say, "I was wrong," without feeling like they've lost.

Someone who knows that disagreements aren't battles to be won but problems to solve together.

I've learned that attraction fades, careers fluctuate, life gets messy but emotional safety is rare. I want the kind of relationship where both people can be completely themselves without feeling like they're constantly walking on eggshells.

I value kindness. Consistency. Accountability. Effort. I want someone who checks in because he wants to not because he's told to. Someone who doesn't treat vulnerability as weakness. Someone who understands that love isn't built through grand gestures alone but through showing up, especially on ordinary days.

I've always imagined a home that feels warm long before it looks perfect. The kind of place that smells like freshly baked cookies on a Sunday afternoon where dinner is often homemade, music plays softly in the background and people always feel welcome. I love cooking and baking because food has always been my love language. If I care about you, I'll probably remember your favourite meal, make it when you've had a difficult day and quietly show my affection through the little things! Butter chicken and garlic naan are my specialties but what I really hope to create is a home filled with comfort, laughter and the feeling that no matter how chaotic life gets, we've always got each other.

I'm ambitious, financially independent, deeply invested in my career and probably more emotionally aware than the average person. I think a lot, I feel deeply and I care wholeheartedly. I'm not everyone's cup of tea and that's okay. I'm not trying to be.

I'm just hoping there's someone out there who's looking for the same kind of quiet, honest, emotionally healthy love.

I know this probably sounds idealistic in a world that seems to celebrate casual connections and emotional detachment.

I'd rather wait years for something real than spend months pretending something shallow is enough.

If you're someone who still believes emotional maturity, loyalty, consistency and genuine effort aren't old-fashioned... I'd really like to know you.

Happy searching! :)

​

I know this is a long read.

If you've chosen to stay, thank you.

I'm about to share parts of myself that I've spent years trying to protect. I very rarely allow myself to be this vulnerable or let strangers read the pieces of my heart that I've hidden for so long. So before you continue, I have just one request:

Please be kind to me.

I wanted to get a few things off my chest.

I very rarely allow myself to be this vulnerable, to let strangers read pieces of my heart and form opinions about them. It honestly terrifies me. So if anything I say contradicts the way you see the world or the way you think people should heal, I hope you'll forgive me, this isn't meant to convince anyone of anything. It's simply the truth as I have lived it.

If even one person, even one, sees a little of themselves in these words and feels a little less alone because of them, then exposing these scars will have been worth it.

Dearest Red,

I've always been "too" empathetic.

Too sensitive.

Too emotional.

Those were the words people used to describe me for most of my life. I heard them so often that somewhere along the way, I stopped questioning them, their perception slowly became my own reality and I began apologising for parts of myself that had never needed an apology.

After everything I've lived through and somehow survived, I no longer see my emotions as a weakness.

I see them as my greatest strength.

I'm grateful that I feel deeply, even if it hurts more than it seems to hurt everyone else because those same emotions have allowed me to love fiercely, care wholeheartedly and never lose my humanity despite every reason I had to become bitter.

I'm writing this for you but perhaps I'm writing it for myself too.

To remind us both that we're stronger than we think, especially on the days we feel like giving up.

I was very very young when my innocence was taken away from me.

Back then, I didn't even understand what was happening.

I only knew that I hated every second of those three years.

I was raped. Repeatedly. For a span of 4.5 years.

I was physically and emotionally abused.

For years afterwards, I was terrified of men not just strangers but even the men in my own family. Fear became my default response to half the world.

My childhood wasn't easy.

Sometimes I still wonder why I spent so much of it hoping that tomorrow would somehow be different.

As I grew older, the nightmares didn't stop. There were more moments where my body was treated as though it didn't belong to me. Moments where boundaries were ignored and my voice didn't matter.

I won't go into the details.

Some wounds are still too painful to revisit.

I want you to know something.

You survived every single one of those nightmares.

Even after walking through hell and somehow finding your way back, that tiny spark inside you, the part that wanted to become someone, to help people, to leave the world a little kinder than you found it, never disappeared.

If anything, it only grew stronger.

I've always loved helping people.

Humans.

Animals.

Anyone who is hurting.

Perhaps that's because I know exactly what it feels like to be alone in your pain. I know what helplessness tastes like. I know what it's like to desperately wish someone had shown up for you.

Maybe that's why I spend so much of my life trying to become that person for someone else.

Not because I can erase anyone's pain.

But because if I can stop even one person from feeling as alone as I once did...

Then perhaps none of my suffering was entirely without meaning.

I've never been in love either, just once I let my guards down for a second and thought about allowing myself to be hopelessly in love but who was I kidding? Good things in my life don't usually last.

I was so excited when I first spoke to him. After keeping my heart imprisoned for so long, it felt good for it to finally be set free. I'm usually intimidated by men but with him it was different. He didn't scare me. He made me believe that maybe not every hand that reached for mine intended to hurt me.

I thought maybe this was it.

So little by little, I allowed myself to get close to him. I trusted him with stories only a handful of people know. I let him see the frightened little girl beneath the composed exterior. For the longest time, resentment was the only thing I had ever felt towards men but somehow he made me believe I could build trust again...that maybe I could finally know what it felt like to be safe.

Safety.

That's all I'd ever really wanted but safety was never something he intended to give me.

It didn't stop him from hurting me.

It didn't stop him from cheating on me.

It didn't stop him from painting vivid pictures of our future together while he was quietly building that very future with someone else.

I was foolish enough to imagine names for children who would never exist. I caught myself wondering whether they'd inherit my eyes or his smile. I imagined a little home tucked away in the hills, dogs chasing children across the garden, cats asleep on the windowsill, warm lights glowing through the windows on rainy evenings.

For someone who never thought she'd deserve a happily ever after, those dreams meant everything.

He didn't just leave.

He took those dreams with him.

He took a future I'd finally allowed myself to believe I deserved and made me question whether it had ever been real.

It took me a long time to recover from that.

Eventually I did.

I let go of the emotional abuse he put me through.

I let go of the excitement I carried while planning our first date.

I let go of the dress I had bought, the new shoes I couldn't wait to wear, the hours I spent learning makeup just to hide the scars life had already left on me.

I let go of the girl who stood outside that arcade lobby for five and a half hours in the pouring rain, checking her phone every few minutes, convincing herself there had to be an explanation, believing that any moment now he'd walk through those doors.

He never did.

I had to let go of the version of me who loved someone so completely that she forgot to love herself.

I let go of her because my self-respect deserved to survive, even if my heart didn't.

I wish I could tell you that was the end of my story.

That after surviving one heartbreak, life decided I had suffered enough.

It didn't.

Years passed and I slowly gathered the broken pieces of myself and stitched them back together. I wasn't looking for love anymore but somehow it found me again or at least I believed it had.

Once again, I let someone in.

Not as easily this time.

Every conversation carried hesitation. Every feeling was accompanied by fear. Every time I found myself smiling, there was another part of me reminding me how dangerous hope could be but he was patient enough for me to lower my walls and I genuinely believed perhaps this was what healing looked like.

I was wrong.

He never cheated on me.

Somehow, what he did hurt just as much.

He learned every fragile corner of my heart. Every fear. Every insecurity. Every wound my past had left behind.

Then he used them against me.

The things I had trusted him with became weapons in his hands.

Every vulnerable conversation.

Every confession.

Every tear.

Every scar.

They became ammunition whenever he wanted to hurt me.

He weaponized my emotions.

He weaponized my past.

He made me question my reality, my worth and eventually myself until I barely recognised the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

I cried more than I ever thought a person could cry.

The kind of crying that leaves you unable to breathe.

The kind that gives you headaches the next morning.

The kind where you beg yourself to stop but the tears refuse to listen.

I remember raising my voice not because I was angry but because I was desperately trying to be heard by someone who had already decided not to listen.

There were nights when I sat on my bedroom floor wondering how I had become this version of myself.

This anxious.

This exhausted.

This afraid.

I could barely remember the woman I had fought so hard to become after surviving my first heartbreak.

It felt like I had spent years rebuilding my home only to watch someone else slowly burn it down.

Perhaps the cruelest part wasn't that he hurt me.

It was that he knew exactly where it would hurt the most.

Sometimes I wonder why life keeps asking me to survive the same lesson wearing different faces.

Sometimes I wonder why every time I finally gather the courage to trust again, I'm handed another reason not to.

Then I remember something.

Despite everything...

Despite every betrayal.

Despite every lie.

Despite every promise that dissolved into silence.

Despite every person who convinced me that loving me was temporary...

Despite every reason my mind has to believe otherwise...

My heart refuses to believe that I am unlovable.

Somehow, against every piece of evidence life has thrown at it, it still believes.

It still hopes.

It still imagines that somewhere out there exists a love that doesn't manipulate, doesn't diminish, doesn't weaponize vulnerability, doesn't make you question whether you're asking for too much simply because you asked to be treated with kindness.

Sometimes I think my heart is far braver than I am.

Because my mind has every reason to give up.

My heart never does.

I don't know if I'll ever fall in love again.

I hope someday I do.

I hope it's with someone who sees my softness as something to protect instead of something to exploit.

Someone who understands that love should feel like coming home not surviving another war.

Even if that day never comes...

I'll still be okay.

Because somewhere along this journey, after everyone else left, someone stayed.

Me.

I don't know who you are.

I don't know what you're carrying.

But trust me when I say this:

It does get better.

Life has a strange way of rebuilding you in places you thought were destroyed forever.

There were countless moments where giving up would've been easier.

Moments where disappearing felt kinder than continuing.

But every single time, I chose to stay.

I chose to fight.

Not because I was fearless.

Because somewhere deep inside me, there was still a tiny voice whispering that perhaps life had not shown me its best chapters yet.

Whenever things become unbearable, place your palm against your chest and feel your heart beating.

That tiny rhythm is proof that your story isn't over.

Healing isn't linear.

Some days old wounds reopen.

Some songs still hurt.

Some memories still steal the air from my lungs.

There are days I find myself falling down rabbit holes I promised I'd never revisit.

But those moments no longer define my future.

They belong to my past.

I refuse to let my past write the ending of my story.

I'm not all words either.

I've invested in a school for underprivileged children.

Those kids have lived through circumstances that would break most adults yet they greet every day with laughter that echoes louder than their suffering ever could.

They remind me every single day that hope is a decision.

I'm fortunate enough to work in a profession where I get to heal people.

Perhaps that's why I refuse to let the people who hurt me convince me that kindness is weakness.

Even on the darkest days, I don't forget who I am.

I'm someone who loves writing, reading, powerlifting, football, cooking, painting, videogames and a hundred other little things that make life beautiful.

It doesn't matter anymore whether I fit into other people's expectations.

Somewhere between all the heartbreak, all the healing, all the tears and all the rebuilding...

I found love.

Not in another person.

In myself.

I hope that whoever you are, you never stop believing that you deserve to be loved not because someone else chooses you but because your existence has always been enough.

Don't give up on yourself.

Don't give up on your dreams.

And above all...

Don't let the people who failed to love you convince you that you were ever difficult to love.

With love,

Rooh❤️‍🩹

​

I know this is a long read.

If you've chosen to stay, thank you.

I'm about to share parts of myself that I've spent years trying to protect. I very rarely allow myself to be this vulnerable or let strangers read the pieces of my heart that I've hidden for so long. So before you continue, I have just one request:

Please be kind to me.

I wanted to get a few things off my chest.

I very rarely allow myself to be this vulnerable, to let strangers read pieces of my heart and form opinions about them. It honestly terrifies me. So if anything I say contradicts the way you see the world or the way you think people should heal, I hope you'll forgive me, this isn't meant to convince anyone of anything. It's simply the truth as I have lived it.

If even one person, even one, sees a little of themselves in these words and feels a little less alone because of them, then exposing these scars will have been worth it.

Dearest Red,

I've always been "too" empathetic.

Too sensitive.

Too emotional.

Those were the words people used to describe me for most of my life. I heard them so often that somewhere along the way, I stopped questioning them, their perception slowly became my own reality and I began apologising for parts of myself that had never needed an apology.

After everything I've lived through and somehow survived, I no longer see my emotions as a weakness.

I see them as my greatest strength.

I'm grateful that I feel deeply, even if it hurts more than it seems to hurt everyone else because those same emotions have allowed me to love fiercely, care wholeheartedly and never lose my humanity despite every reason I had to become bitter.

I'm writing this for you but perhaps I'm writing it for myself too.

To remind us both that we're stronger than we think, especially on the days we feel like giving up.

I was very very young when my innocence was taken away from me.

Back then, I didn't even understand what was happening.

I only knew that I hated every second of those three years.

I was raped. Repeatedly. For a span of 4.5 years.

I was physically and emotionally abused.

For years afterwards, I was terrified of men not just strangers but even the men in my own family. Fear became my default response to half the world.

My childhood wasn't easy.

Sometimes I still wonder why I spent so much of it hoping that tomorrow would somehow be different.

As I grew older, the nightmares didn't stop. There were more moments where my body was treated as though it didn't belong to me. Moments where boundaries were ignored and my voice didn't matter.

I won't go into the details.

Some wounds are still too painful to revisit.

I want you to know something.

You survived every single one of those nightmares.

Even after walking through hell and somehow finding your way back, that tiny spark inside you, the part that wanted to become someone, to help people, to leave the world a little kinder than you found it, never disappeared.

If anything, it only grew stronger.

I've always loved helping people.

Humans.

Animals.

Anyone who is hurting.

Perhaps that's because I know exactly what it feels like to be alone in your pain. I know what helplessness tastes like. I know what it's like to desperately wish someone had shown up for you.

Maybe that's why I spend so much of my life trying to become that person for someone else.

Not because I can erase anyone's pain.

But because if I can stop even one person from feeling as alone as I once did...

Then perhaps none of my suffering was entirely without meaning.

I've never been in love either, just once I let my guards down for a second and thought about allowing myself to be hopelessly in love but who was I kidding? Good things in my life don't usually last.

I was so excited when I first spoke to him. After keeping my heart imprisoned for so long, it felt good for it to finally be set free. I'm usually intimidated by men but with him it was different. He didn't scare me. He made me believe that maybe not every hand that reached for mine intended to hurt me.

I thought maybe this was it.

So little by little, I allowed myself to get close to him. I trusted him with stories only a handful of people know. I let him see the frightened little girl beneath the composed exterior. For the longest time, resentment was the only thing I had ever felt towards men but somehow he made me believe I could build trust again...that maybe I could finally know what it felt like to be safe.

Safety.

That's all I'd ever really wanted but safety was never something he intended to give me.

It didn't stop him from hurting me.

It didn't stop him from cheating on me.

It didn't stop him from painting vivid pictures of our future together while he was quietly building that very future with someone else.

I was foolish enough to imagine names for children who would never exist. I caught myself wondering whether they'd inherit my eyes or his smile. I imagined a little home tucked away in the hills, dogs chasing children across the garden, cats asleep on the windowsill, warm lights glowing through the windows on rainy evenings.

For someone who never thought she'd deserve a happily ever after, those dreams meant everything.

He didn't just leave.

He took those dreams with him.

He took a future I'd finally allowed myself to believe I deserved and made me question whether it had ever been real.

It took me a long time to recover from that.

Eventually I did.

I let go of the emotional abuse he put me through.

I let go of the excitement I carried while planning our first date.

I let go of the dress I had bought, the new shoes I couldn't wait to wear, the hours I spent learning makeup just to hide the scars life had already left on me.

I let go of the girl who stood outside that arcade lobby for five and a half hours in the pouring rain, checking her phone every few minutes, convincing herself there had to be an explanation, believing that any moment now he'd walk through those doors.

He never did.

I had to let go of the version of me who loved someone so completely that she forgot to love herself.

I let go of her because my self-respect deserved to survive, even if my heart didn't.

I wish I could tell you that was the end of my story.

That after surviving one heartbreak, life decided I had suffered enough.

It didn't.

Years passed and I slowly gathered the broken pieces of myself and stitched them back together. I wasn't looking for love anymore but somehow it found me again or at least I believed it had.

Once again, I let someone in.

Not as easily this time.

Every conversation carried hesitation. Every feeling was accompanied by fear. Every time I found myself smiling, there was another part of me reminding me how dangerous hope could be but he was patient enough for me to lower my walls and I genuinely believed perhaps this was what healing looked like.

I was wrong.

He never cheated on me.

Somehow, what he did hurt just as much.

He learned every fragile corner of my heart. Every fear. Every insecurity. Every wound my past had left behind.

Then he used them against me.

The things I had trusted him with became weapons in his hands.

Every vulnerable conversation.

Every confession.

Every tear.

Every scar.

They became ammunition whenever he wanted to hurt me.

He weaponized my emotions.

He weaponized my past.

He made me question my reality, my worth and eventually myself until I barely recognised the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

I cried more than I ever thought a person could cry.

The kind of crying that leaves you unable to breathe.

The kind that gives you headaches the next morning.

The kind where you beg yourself to stop but the tears refuse to listen.

I remember raising my voice not because I was angry but because I was desperately trying to be heard by someone who had already decided not to listen.

There were nights when I sat on my bedroom floor wondering how I had become this version of myself.

This anxious.

This exhausted.

This afraid.

I could barely remember the woman I had fought so hard to become after surviving my first heartbreak.

It felt like I had spent years rebuilding my home only to watch someone else slowly burn it down.

Perhaps the cruelest part wasn't that he hurt me.

It was that he knew exactly where it would hurt the most.

Sometimes I wonder why life keeps asking me to survive the same lesson wearing different faces.

Sometimes I wonder why every time I finally gather the courage to trust again, I'm handed another reason not to.

Then I remember something.

Despite everything...

Despite every betrayal.

Despite every lie.

Despite every promise that dissolved into silence.

Despite every person who convinced me that loving me was temporary...

Despite every reason my mind has to believe otherwise...

My heart refuses to believe that I am unlovable.

Somehow, against every piece of evidence life has thrown at it, it still believes.

It still hopes.

It still imagines that somewhere out there exists a love that doesn't manipulate, doesn't diminish, doesn't weaponize vulnerability, doesn't make you question whether you're asking for too much simply because you asked to be treated with kindness.

Sometimes I think my heart is far braver than I am.

Because my mind has every reason to give up.

My heart never does.

I don't know if I'll ever fall in love again.

I hope someday I do.

I hope it's with someone who sees my softness as something to protect instead of something to exploit.

Someone who understands that love should feel like coming home not surviving another war.

Even if that day never comes...

I'll still be okay.

Because somewhere along this journey, after everyone else left, someone stayed.

Me.

I don't know who you are.

I don't know what you're carrying.

But trust me when I say this:

It does get better.

Life has a strange way of rebuilding you in places you thought were destroyed forever.

There were countless moments where giving up would've been easier.

Moments where disappearing felt kinder than continuing.

But every single time, I chose to stay.

I chose to fight.

Not because I was fearless.

Because somewhere deep inside me, there was still a tiny voice whispering that perhaps life had not shown me its best chapters yet.

Whenever things become unbearable, place your palm against your chest and feel your heart beating.

That tiny rhythm is proof that your story isn't over.

Healing isn't linear.

Some days old wounds reopen.

Some songs still hurt.

Some memories still steal the air from my lungs.

There are days I find myself falling down rabbit holes I promised I'd never revisit.

But those moments no longer define my future.

They belong to my past.

I refuse to let my past write the ending of my story.

I'm not all words either.

I've invested in a school for underprivileged children.

Those kids have lived through circumstances that would break most adults yet they greet every day with laughter that echoes louder than their suffering ever could.

They remind me every single day that hope is a decision.

I'm fortunate enough to work in a profession where I get to heal people.

Perhaps that's why I refuse to let the people who hurt me convince me that kindness is weakness.

Even on the darkest days, I don't forget who I am.

I'm someone who loves writing, reading, powerlifting, football, cooking, painting, videogames and a hundred other little things that make life beautiful.

It doesn't matter anymore whether I fit into other people's expectations.

Somewhere between all the heartbreak, all the healing, all the tears and all the rebuilding...

I found love.

Not in another person.

In myself.

I hope that whoever you are, you never stop believing that you deserve to be loved not because someone else chooses you but because your existence has always been enough.

Don't give up on yourself.

Don't give up on your dreams.

And above all...

Don't let the people who failed to love you convince you that you were ever difficult to love.

With love,

Rooh❤️‍🩹