Everybody has a story to tell, or are they just pretty good liars?

When everything is off, your Reels, Youtube, Spotify, Netflix. Your hands are resting your head and you are staring at the ceiling fan. You tell yourself a story; the plot revolves around your past, the conflict is present and the resolution you seek for it, is the future.

I call this time a Night Owl's Paradise, but it often feels like hell—maybe most of the time. You think about your life, career, parents, and relationships, trying to figure out if you've failed as a person or if it's too soon to judge yourself. Gaining clarity on just one of these realizations is good, I believe. But the self-consolation feels like you're lying to yourself.

You start replaying memories, dissecting moments, wondering if a different choice could have made a difference. It’s funny how your mind clings to the what-ifs. The victories feel fleeting, but the mistakes? They linger. They twist in your mind like a film reel stuck on repeat, showing you the parts you'd rather forget, but can't help but dwell on.

And then there’s the weight of expectation—your own and the ones others have placed on you. Did you make the right choices? Are you living up to who you thought you’d be by now? You wonder if the people around you see the cracks, or if you’ve gotten too good at hiding them.

The ceiling fan keeps spinning, just like the thoughts in your head, and before you know it, hours have passed. You feel like you're floating between timelines—past regrets, present dissatisfaction, future hopes. It's exhausting, yet somehow, you can't stop.

But here's the catch—at some point, you tell yourself a different story. One where you’re the hero, where it’s okay not to have everything figured out just yet. You remind yourself that maybe, just maybe, no one really does. And maybe, the lies you tell yourself aren’t really lies—they're survival.

You’ll wake up tomorrow, put on the mask again, and go through the motions, convincing everyone, including yourself, that you’ve got it all under control. But deep down, you know that the night will come again, and so will the stories. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that's just how it is for all of us, living in the in-between.

Till then, don't stress up;

See you on next Tuesday!