Books

You are what you consume.

The reels and memes you saved but never shared with them? Unsave, they don’t need to be underground anymore.

The letters you wrote but never sent? Tear them up, you’ve already said what needed saying, even if only to yourself.

The words you keep rehearsing? Forget them, some thoughts are better left unspoken.

The explanation you’re holding onto? Don’t. You don’t owe anyone a justification for your reality.

Those oversized clothes in your wardrobe? Wear them with pride until you feel ready to change.

The smaller ones? Let them remind you of the goals you’re working toward, with patience, not pressure.

That untouched skincare gathering dust? Start using it today, love yourself in small rituals.

The debts you are worried about? Work hard, pay them off completely.

The rumours and judgments people whisper about you? Laugh, their stories aren’t your reality.

The people you’re holding onto out of habit or fear? Let them go, you’re allowed to outgrow.

That project you dream about? Begin, even if no one understands why.

The draft email you’ve read a hundred times? Hit the send button, perfection is overrated.

The call you keep postponing? Make it, connection doesn’t wait forever.

The reconciliation you’ve been silently hoping for? Reach out, peace doesn’t come without effort.

The apology stuck in your chest? Say it, healing lives on the other side of vulnerability.

Expecting an apology that you never received? Forgive them, they don't know how to do better.

The friend or relative you’ve been meaning to meet up with? Meet them, tomorrow is never promised.

The disrespect you’ve endured in silence? Stop tolerating it, tell them to fuck off. You are not anyone’s punching bag.

The love you keep buried inside? Share it, love was never meant to be hoarded.

The shame of not being enough in someone else’s eyes? Let it go, their narrative isn’t your responsibility.

The trip you keep dreaming of? Save for it, your soul needs that adventure.

That food you wanted to try? Eat it, without guilt, without rules.

The habit you want to build? Start learning, your future is shaped by what you do today.

The routine you crave? Show up, consistency will take you where motivation can’t.

The people who drain you? Cut ties, your peace is more important than their presence.

The guilt of falling behind? You’re not late, you’re growing on your own timeline.

The memories that haunt you? Declutter them, your mind deserves harmony.

You don’t owe anyone a justification.

Sing the song, dance the dance.

The habits, trauma, and patterns that kept you stuck, they don’t define you.

Shed them. Evolve for good.

Give with sincerity. Move with reciprocity.

Choose yourself, deliberately, unapologetically, and wholeheartedly.

-Nia Zera

I am not a sum of every bad decision that I made.

There’s something inside me cracking open like the beginning of spring in a place that’s known only as winter. The life I want isn’t sitting on a mountaintop waiting for me to be perfect. It’s here, already peeking through the cracks, waiting for alignment. A good life. A solid career. Financial freedom. People who speak to me in kindness and show up in certitude. A healthy body, a peaceful mind. But none of these things will bloom if I keep shutting the door on myself. That’s the first truth I learned. You can’t open the door to abundance until you accept yourself. Acceptance isn’t a single moment, it’s a pilgrimage, a slow unfolding, a journey that begins with the decision to stop trying to be what others want and instead become everything right. It starts with one tiny act of love, doing what I love, even if I’m uncomfortable with it. Learning without shame. Trying without fear. Nobody in this world has figured everything out. That myth is a thief of joy. Life is an ongoing lesson and education is free if you know how to skim. It lives in nature, in books, in conversations, in long walks with your thoughts, in mistakes, in tears, in curiosity. Learning and growing are free. Forgiveness and acceptance, though hard, are always available. So I chose them. I choose to learn and forgive, especially myself.

I choose to accept that I am still becoming. I choose to believe that not everyone is vicious, shallow, or transactional.There are good people in this world. Gentle people. Brave people. People who will see me, not through the distorted mirror of my past, but with the wide eyed wonder of possibility. And yet, I must also protect my spirit. That’s another truth I’m swallowing today. And yet, I must also protect my spirit. That’s another truth I’m swallowing today. I must detach from people and situations that insist on narrating me through my worst chapters. The ones who whisper my failures like mantras. Who poke at my past like open wounds.Who can only see flaws where there is character and pain where there is a comeback. I am not ugly. I am not a sum of every bad decision that I made. I am not unfinished or broken beyond repair. I no longer want to carry walking reminders of misery just to prove how bad the world can be. I know what pain looks like. I’ve tasted it, swallowed it, choked on it. But I’m still here. Still choosing silence. Still choosing hope. Still taking accountability. No one else is supposed to take over my life, not a partner, not a parent, not a friend, not a critic, not even someone who loves me.

This is mine to understand. Mine to fix. Mine to live. Mine to shape. Mine to reclaim. And no one can change me but me.Because no one knows the terrain of my soul like I do. No one sees the midnight crying, the secret prayers, the attempts to start over again and again and again. So I am changing. Slowly. Radically. Quietly. Loudly.I am learning to stop doing things I wouldn’t tolerate from someone else. I’m learning to pause. To breathe. To ask myself before reacting, before speaking, before hurting. I’m learning that kindness begins with me. That healing doesn’t mean forgetting, but it does mean forgiving myself for what I didn’t know back then. That it’s okay to take help. That needing support doesn’t mean I’m weak, it means I’m wise enough to reach out when the weight gets too heavy. I’m fixing what I can. I’m thriving in the ways I know how. I’m gathering every instrument, every truth, every whisper of hope. And I’m walking forward. Letting go of what I can’t control. I’m just a human being, trying to figure it all out. And for the first time, I believe I am enough. To mend is to touch with love what we earlier touched with fear.

-Nia Zera

As the saying goes, “The dice is rolling, you will get your six.” Until then, keep clapping for others.

“To the Silent Fighters”

To those who suffer in silence, who carry the weight of unseen battles, you are getting there. Even when no one sees your pain, you are deeply loved. It is not your fault. You deserve to live. To love freely and laugh fully, regardless of your past, regardless of your failures or mistakes, whether you’re rich or poor, gifted or still learning, your existence matters. There is so much more waiting for you. And you will get there soon. Your silent struggles are counted. Every small effort you make, every breath you take, is brave.

Trust the cycle. Love the parts of you that ache. Keep trying. Sometimes things must end so that better can begin. Remember the ones who held your hand when you had nothing. And forgive the ones who left when you needed them the most. Delete that old version of yourself. You don’t owe anyone your distress. Life humbles you as you grow, let it. But live, just once for yourself. It’s not about “when you’re ready.” Start now. You get better. As the saying goes, “The dice is rolling, you will get your six.” Until then, keep clapping for others. You are a beautiful creation of the universe. You have a purpose, big or small. You deserve love. You deserve life.

Give love.

Appreciate efforts, give compliments, and express your gratitude even if they don’t receive them, even if they hurt you, even if they look down on you. Do your part, and walk on. Don't explain yourself. Don’t carry the weight that’s not yours. Drop it gently at their door and leave like only you can. No one else decides who you are. Not even the person reading this. Only you know your whole story, the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful mess. So just be. Be loud in your compassion. Be proud of your silence. Be firm in your healing. Good days are coming. Hold on. You’re almost there.

- Nia Zera

Hey you! Beautiful.

There is something so profoundly beautiful about women loving each other. Not in a way the world often tries to frame it competitive and conditional but in the purest, most unfiltered way. The way we see each other, even when the world has tried to make us small. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, to feel like no one is truly looking at you for who you are beyond what you can give, beyond what you are expected to be. It makes me so happy when I see women uplifting each other, hyping each other up in a world that constantly tells us to compete. The way we find joy in someone else’s glow, the way we remind each other of our power when we forget. It is real. It is love. It is safety. There is something about a woman complimenting another woman that just feels different. Maybe it’s because we know the battles we fight inside standing in front of mirrors, tearing ourselves apart, holding ourselves to impossible standards.

So when another woman looks at you and says, You are radiant. You are enough, it hits differently. It’s like being pulled back to yourself, like a gentle hand on your back saying, I see you. I know. I’ve been there too.
Maybe because we know what it means to fight self-doubt, to shrink ourselves, to be told we are too much or not enough. Maybe that’s why when another woman genuinely sees you, it feels like she’s pulling you back to yourself.
And it’s not just women. Any person, of any gender, who appreciates others without hesitation, without needing someone else to shrink so they can feel bigger-that is the kind of energy I want to be around. But there is something undeniably special about women supporting women. The way we understand the unspoken. The way we stand beside each other, through the highs and the heartbreaks.

How we understand the need for gentle reassurance in a world that often demands us to be hard. I love seeing a woman light up when another tells her she looks beautiful. I love when strangers hype each other up in washrooms, when one says, That dress was made for you, or your energy is stunning, and you can see that tiny moment of disbelief before it sinks in and sticks.
It breaks my heart that society has taught us to see each other as threats instead of reflections. But I refuse. I refuse to dim my light, and I refuse to be threatened by another being’s brightness. I want to be the kind of person who makes others feel lighter, softer, safe. There is enough room, enough light, enough love for all of us. And nothing fills my heart more than seeing us finally, finally believe that. And I think the most beautiful thing we can do is remind each other of that.

-Nia Zera

And this time, I’m not leaving myself behind for anything. I am becoming more, more truthful, more raw, and more authentic without seeking validation for my existence.

Today, getting out of bed felt like dragging the weight of a mountain. My limbs, heavy with a grief I never signed up for, refused to move. My mind spun its usual morning lies “You’re broken,” “You deserve this,” “You messed everything up.” But somehow, I got up. Somehow, I moved. That somehow I think it’s the part of me that still wants to live, even when everything inside is crumbling. I’ve spent so much time blaming myself for the things I didn’t know. I held onto guilt like it was my identity. But I’m learning something now that you can’t do better until you know better. And I didn’t know better. I didn’t know how to set boundaries. I didn’t realize that love doesn’t mean suffering. I didn’t know how to breathe through disappointment without burning the whole world down. But now I know. And knowing means I can choose differently. Forgiveness is not coming easily, not for others, and not for myself. But today, I whispered to the mirror “I forgive you for not knowing. I forgive you for trying the only way you knew how.” It didn’t heal everything, but it softened the tightness in my chest for a moment. That’s something. I cried while brushing my teeth. The most ordinary things feel like wars. Getting dressed. Drinking water. Breathing. But I did it anyway. That’s my small rebellion, doing the things that grief tries to steal from me. People have said I’m “too much,” “too emotional,” “not enough,” “hard to love.”

I’ve twisted myself, trying to earn back love that should have never been taken away. But I’m finally learning I don’t need to convince anyone to stay. If someone leaves because I’m flawed, because I’m healing, because I’ve stopped apologising for existing, let them. Their leaving says nothing about my worth. Their silence is not a measure of my value. Their anger is not my burden to carry. Some days I still think of giving up. Not in a dramatic, storybook kind of way, but in that dull ache that whispers, “It would be easier not to feel.” But I know now that ending it isn’t peace. It’s just turning your pain into someone else’s. And let’s be real, the world will move on. People will cry for a week and then go back to scrolling, eating, and laughing. The same people who didn’t hear your cries when you were alive. No, I refuse to be another sad story. I will be the one who survived. I walked outside, and the wind touched my face like it missed me. The sun felt like it was trying to talk to me in warmth. For the first time in a long while, I felt… present. I didn’t reach for my phone. I didn’t scroll to distract. I just stood there, grieving, recovering, existing. I’m not begging anymore. Not for love. Not for understanding. Not for someone to stay. I am choosing myself, again and again, no matter how many times I fall and how miserable I am. Accountability is not shame. It’s not beating myself up for what’s already done. It’s saying, “Yes, I could have done better.

And now I will.” Without theatrics. Without needing validation. Quietly. Deeply.I’ve left people, habits, places, and conversations that no longer serve me. Not because I’m cruel. But because I refuse to shrink anymore. I won’t keep watering gardens that never tried to bloom with me. My mind still tries to guilt me. It tells me I’m selfish for choosing peace. That I’m cold for walking away. That healing means isolation. But I remind myself, the greatest human quality is not pleasing others, it is evolving. And sometimes growth looks like solitude, stillness, silence. I am not alone. I have me. And today, for the first time in a long while, that feels like enough. I’m not healed. But I’m healing. I’m not fearless. But I’m braver. I’m not perfect. But I am whole. And change is beautiful. Today, I laughed. I sang a song while cooking. I made myself a tea and sat with gratitude, not guilt. People will come. People will go. Opinions will shift. The world will spin. But I will be here, growing, becoming, loving, living. Because I am my greatest companion. Because I am worth staying for. And this time, I’m not leaving myself behind for anything. I am becoming more, more truthful, more raw, and more authentic without seeking validation for my existence.

-Nia Zera

To love and to be loved.

Some nights, like this one, I find myself lost in thought wondering if love has changed or if I’m simply out of place in the world it now belongs to.
People say there are plenty of fish in the sea, but no one talks about how fast they swim, how quickly they move from one tide to another, never really staying long enough to anchor. There’s a certain ease to it, I suppose.
No wasted time, no lingering sadness, no sinking too deep. Just a cycle of meeting, feeling, and moving on before things get too heavy. Maybe that’s good for them. Maybe it saves them from the weight of heartbreak, from sleepless nights, from feeling like love could alter the course of their whole life.
But me being me, I crave something else. Something slower, something deeper like the old romance we read about. The kind were waiting at a bus stop just to steal a glance felt like enough.

Where love wasn’t measured in texts replied to within minutes but in the way someone made space for you in their heart, even in silence. A love that wasn’t about appearances or moods, but about quiet admiration, patience, and the effort to be seen and cherished. Not stalking, not forcing just waiting. But waiting is painful, isn’t it? Because when you invest your heart in something like this, you feel every ache more deeply. Casual love might be easier, but this kind of love soulful love demands everything. And in a world that no longer waits, I wonder if that’s asking for too much. If I am asking for too much...
maybe it’s just the way I was shaped, being an old soul stuck between many different kinds of love the one I knew and the rest I no longer recognise. Maybe I sound delusional to some, holding onto something that no longer fits the times.

But writing about love isn’t desperation, it’s just an overflow of something I have within me. A kind of love that isn’t just about being with someone but about being held in a way that makes the world feel softer. I don’t judge those who live differently, but I also don’t know if I can fully understand it yet. Maybe I will one day. Maybe time will change me, or maybe it will just help me find someone who feels the way I do.
Until then, I’ll keep writing, keep waiting, and keep believing that the love I long for isn’t impossible. Just rare.

- Nia Zera

The older I get, the less I try to prove myself. I don’t want to beg for understanding. I just want to be and be at peace with whoever stays, and whoever doesn’t.

Some days, I feel like I carry too much of the world inside me. I absorb the weight of glances, the sharpness of words left unspoken, the subtle shifts in tone when someone’s pretending to be kind but isn’t. I notice it all, the pauses, the forced smiles, the tension in the air when truth and politeness collide. Maybe that’s what it means to be highly sensitive. To not just see people but to feel them. To notice when their words don’t match their energy. To sense when admiration is laced with envy, when kindness is a performance, when someone is speaking but hiding everything that really matters.

The hardest part is when you start personalising it. When you internalise the way people treat you, assuming it must be something wrong with you. But the truth is, people’s judgments, their inconsistencies, their love or lack of it. It has nothing to do with you. You can’t control how someone sees you. You can’t change their narrative, no matter how much of yourself you pour into proving your goodness. And so, with time, you learn to detach. Slowly, subtly. Not with anger, not with resentment, but with quiet acceptance. The more you understand a person’s thoughts, the easier it becomes to step back. Some connections unravel on their own once the illusion fades. Some people are easier to admire from a distance. And that’s okay.

Authenticity feels lonely sometimes, but I’d rather be alone in my truth than surrounded by people who only love the version of me they’ve created in their minds. Everyone has their own story, their own complexities, and nobody is obligated to admire everyone. Just as I don’t have to shrink myself to fit into someone else’s expectations, no one else has to be what I want them to be either. All I want is emotional safety. A space where I don’t have to question if someone truly sees me or just the idea of me. A space where I can exist without being speculated upon, where I don’t have to dissect my every action, wondering how it will be misinterpreted.

- Nia Zera

Maybe emotional safety isn’t something the world hands to you. Maybe it’s something you have to build for yourself

There are days when I feel like I understand people, and then there are days like today, when everything feels like a contradiction. Love, trust, reassurance… they all seem so fragile, so easily influenced by speculation and judgment. One moment, someone hypes you up, makes you feel seen and valued… and then, without a warning, they question you, doubt you, or worse-rewrite your story without even asking you. It’s terrifying how quickly admiration can turn into scrutiny. How easily warmth can be replaced by distance. I’ve started to realise that emotional safety isn’t just about how much someone loves you, it’s about 'how' they love you. Do they love you in a way that feels secure? or do they love you in a way that makes you constantly prove yourself. Speculation is the worst kind of thief. It steals the truth and replaces it with assumptions. People don’t ask, they assume.

They fill in the blanks with their own fears, their own biases, their own versions of you that might have nothing to do with who you actually are. And once those assumptions take root, no amount of truth can erase them.

Then comes the judgment-the weight of being measured, of being seen but not understood. It feels like standing in a room where every version of you is being analysed, compared and criticised. And no matter how much you explain yourself, no matter how much you try to prove your heart, someone will still find a way to make you the villain in a story you never even agreed to be a part of.
It’s exhausting. To be loved, only to be doubted. To be reassured, only to be confused again. To be made to feel safe, only to have that safety ripped away by a single moment of judgment.

It makes me question everything! who is real? Who truly sees me? Who loves me without unrealistic conditions?
I think that’s why I’ve started detaching. Slowly, quietly. Not because I don’t care, but because I need to protect my peace. Because I refuse to keep proving my heart to people who only see what they want to see. Maybe emotional safety isn’t something the world hands to you. Maybe it’s something you have to build for yourself by choosing who you trust, by refusing to explain yourself to those who don’t listen, by realising that love without security is just another way to feel lost.

- Nia Zera