Fragments of the Quiet Mind

I used to believe in karma—naïve, I know. That moral ledger balancing debts and credits, handing out justice on time. Turns out, karma’s broken. Or maybe it never existed, just a myth we told ourselves to sleep at night. The worst people don’t just slip through the cracks. They built the cracks. They thrive in the ruins, stacking money on the bones of those who trusted them. It’s not a game anymore. It’s a machine—greedy, ruthless, and programmed to reward the cruelest operators. The bad don’t just get ahead—they consume whole worlds, leaving scraps for the rest. And here we are, pretending fairness is around the corner while the cold truth settles in: the world belongs to those who take without guilt, who use without mercy. Kindness is weakness. Empathy, a liability. The soul is currency no one wants to buy. Sometimes I wonder if the good are just ghosts in this system—forgotten, erased, slowly fading into silence while the vultures feast. No grand justice is coming. No reckonin...

Today I realized… ... That beautiful memories do not demand forgetting. They only ask to be touched gently, like a scar you’ve come to love. ... That Marlboro Gold tastes like dried sweet potato leaves—bitter, earthy, the kind of disappointment that reminds you you're still alive. Some truths don’t burn, they just wither. ... That silence is not emptiness. It's where wisdom blooms in the corners of the mouth that chose not to speak. There is grace in the unsaid. ... That too much care can drown the very thing you love. Like the stargazer lily I tried to keep alive—I watered it with good intentions, smothered it with tenderness. But love, without listening, kills softly. The wilt was not betrayal. It was instruction. ... That no matter how tightly you hold your pain behind a smile, someone will always see through it. Soulmates are not just found—they are the ones who see you and don’t flinch. You can’t wear masks around them. They were never fooled to begin with. ... That...