alovesecrecy.

Not too late You learn your place in someone’s life through their actions. If you are not a priority, there will always be endless excuses. That alone tells you how much you truly meant to them. Nonetheless, I wish them well. On a brighter note, I’m looking forward to more training and fitness — preparing myself for what’s ahead. Even though it feels like pain and torture at times, I hope it will all be worthwhile. This is something I’ve wanted for the longest time. Call me petty if you want, but I never had the chance before… and I might just get that opportunity in the future. Call me a late bloomer if you must — I don’t mind. After all, you only live once. It’s refreshing that no one in the team knows me. Let them judge me for who I am, not for what others say about me. The only downside is that they’ve already built strong bonds among themselves. But that’s alright. I’m not here to chase acceptance. I’m here to prove to myself that I can still show up, still push through the pain, ...

In-Between With HIIT in place, My body is starting to feel different. They say, trust the process. I try. There are still so many things I want to achieve. Plans waiting somewhere in the future. But nothing really moves outside of God’s plan. Maybe that’s the real process. I can’t wait for the day I have my own place — my own space, my own design. Just hoping it won’t cost a bomb. So many feelings involved. Some days I feel super restless. Some days my mind just blanks out. And in the quiet moments I notice something strange — a small void in my heart that I can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s just another phase. Maybe it’s just the waiting. For now, I guess I’ll keep trusting the process.

Fasting Month Two weeks in. Barely surviving. Flu took a week out of me. Body fragile. Energy thin. Such a weakling — or so I call myself. Weight crept up quietly. Now I’m negotiating with the mirror. HIIT for discipline. Sweat for redemption. Then breaking fast like I earned the feast twice. Cycle repeats. Truth is, I don’t feel Raya this year. No spark. No anticipation. Just routine dressed in tradition. Same greetings. Same questions. Same version of me standing in the same room. Maybe it’s not the celebration. Maybe it’s the setting. Maybe one day, in my own place, on my own terms, Raya will land differently. For now, it’s just another month I’m trying to get through.