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Blame magnet

 Have you ever felt like no matter what you do, you’re always on the receiving end of blame? Strange, right? But that’s exactly how it feels to be me. Whether at school or at home, I somehow become the soft target—the one everyone points fingers at. Even in situations I have nothing to do with, like when two people are fighting, somehow I end up being blamed. It’s unreal, almost like living in a world that makes no sense. Yet, this is my reality. I still remember every single moment—every shout, every unfair accusation. It makes me feel like a fool, like a joker in a game I never agreed to play. And yet, life goes on, and I continue navigating this strange, frustrating experience. But amidst all this, I’ve learned something important: being blamed isn’t a reflection of who I am. It’s a reflection of how others perceive things—or maybe how they take out their frustrations. And that realization gives me a quiet strength to keep going, even when the world seems unfair.
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My Journey of Discovery of my Career

 People often ask me, “A nurse? Why didn’t you choose MBBS? You didn’t even appear for the MBBS entrance exam? When you were filling out your nursing form, you could have filled for MBBS too. The syllabus was the same. You were such a brilliant student all your school life. Why just nursing?” I’ve heard these questions a lot lately. And yes, in a way, they are valid. A student like me—good in studies, who passed high school in the bio-science stream with a good marks—might naturally be expected to become a doctor. Many think nursing is easier, something anyone can do, while becoming a doctor requires exceptional hard work and dedication. But is that really the whole truth? I asked myself this question before choosing nursing. I am a 17-year-old girl who recently passed my nursing entrance examination, despite being really sick at that time. Many people tried to demotivate me from choosing nursing, but I went ahead anyway. Why did I choose nursing? Many people have dreamed of becomi...
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Chapter Closed 💅

 A year ago, I wrote this in my diary. At the time, it felt like a lifeline—my way of understanding my own emotions when everything around me seemed unfair. Reading it again recently, I realized how far I’ve come and how much that entry still holds truth. This is the story I wrote then, the story of choosing myself. For years, I lived with a quiet accusation pressed against my chest: this is your fault. I didn’t remember when it started, only that one situation—one I didn’t even create—had somehow turned into a lifetime sentence. Everyone else walked away lighter. I stayed behind, carrying the blame like it was mine to bear. I softened my truth every time I spoke. I edited details, changed tones, swallowed facts. Not because I was lying—but because I was afraid. Afraid that honesty would make me lose them. Ironically, they moved on anyway. They didn’t fight for me. They didn’t ask twice. They didn’t stay. I did. For four crucial years of my life, I convinced myself that loyalty mea...
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