Clueless Twenties

  Something I have noticed, dear reader, is that every time a Christian is explaining something or pointing out something or narrating their experiences, people are so quick to label it psychosis. Why is it that we are so quick to label Christianity psychosis? And it makes me wonder, why this religion, specifically? Why does Christianity, more than any other faith, become the easiest one to pathologize? Dear reader, this is what I would like us to ask ourselves today and cover bases, and maybe you can find an answer within, and maybe we can see our prejudices. Not to defend extremists or to attack any other religion, but to understand the cultural psychology behind our reactions. And perhaps to gently ask: What are we really responding to? Christianity is the religion most of us grew up around. We know it deeply, sometimes too deeply. And to this, I ask, is it easier to call Christianity “psychotic” simply because it’s familiar? Because its symbols and stories are the ones we unde...

 Dear Reader, The thing that bothers me now a days is that it feels like you’re living inside a never-ending group chat argument. Every day, someone is fighting someone. Men vs. women. Women vs. men. People arguing about who should pay for a date, who is more oppressed, who is more entitled, who is delusional, who should apologize for what, who should be “humble,” who should “lead,” who should "submit," and who should “stop expecting too much.” It’s endless. It’s exhausting. And if you dare scroll your feed before you’ve fully woken up, you’ll feel like the world has chosen violence as its love language. But when you take a step back, it becomes clear that most of us are not actually at war. We are just exhausted, confused, and trying to navigate a world that demands more from us than any social media algorithm can understand. The loudest voices dominate the debate, and they make it feel as if everyone is in opposition. But beneath the clamor, people are simply trying to surv...

There’s a special kind of chaos that lives in your twenties. You think you’re getting better at adulting you know how to pay rent, send polite “following up” emails, and maybe even water your plants on schedule but the moment someone interesting texts you, all logic evaporates. Suddenly you’re pacing the room like a detective, analyzing emojis like case files. You tell yourself you’re just “in love,” but somewhere deep down, you know it’s not that simple. Maybe part of the confusion is that we grew up on romance movies that taught us love should feel like a thunderstorm. The look across the room, the kiss in the rain, the dramatic airport chase. We were raised on stories where love proves itself through chaos grand gestures, tension, heartbreak, and reunion. Nobody told us that real love often looks less like fireworks and more like a consistent glow quiet, imperfect, steady. Love, these days, feels like a maze. There’s limerence that dizzy, involuntary rush when someone new enters ...