“Dear Reader, I Owe You an Explanation”

Dear Reader, I Owe You an Explanation

Hello lovely readers, this is Pavithra—back again after a long, unexpected pause on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.

First of all, I want to say I’m sorry—for disappearing without notice, for the inconsistency, and for not showing up when you were waiting for words that might have brought comfort or connection. Life, as you know, doesn’t always unfold the way we plan, and sometimes the chaos hits a little harder than expected.

In the midst of trying to juggle personal chaos, mental burnout, and moments of quiet survival, I lost touch with the very space that gave me solace—this journal. Writing has always been my way of untangling thoughts, but when your mind is the very thing you're trying to escape, even picking up the pen can feel heavy.

But here's the truth: I never stopped thinking about this blog. About you—the reader who silently supports, relates, and sometimes even finds a piece of themselves in my tangled stories. You’ve been on my mind through every anxious morning and quiet night.

This break wasn’t planned. It wasn’t dramatic. It was one of those slow fades we don’t even realize are happening… until we wake up one day and miss the version of ourselves that used to find peace in expression.

So today, I return—not with perfection, but with intention. Not with polished promises, but with honest words.

I can’t promise I’ll post every day or follow a rigid schedule. What I can promise is that every word I write here will continue to come from a place of truth, vulnerability, and growth. The chaos might still exist, but that’s why MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL was born—to honor life’s messy, beautiful, and sometimes overwhelming turns.

Thank you for sticking around.
Thank you for being patient.
Thank you for reading these words even after the silence.

Let’s pick up where we left off—raw, real, and unfiltered. I have so much more to share with you.

If you’ve ever felt like disappearing or silently pressing pause on life, just know—I see you. I feel you. And I’m right there with you.

Let’s embrace the chaos together.
With love,
Pavithra | MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL

Echoes Within: The Anxiety No One Saw

The Silence That Screamed

Theme: Internal Struggles

Hello lovely readers, this is Pavithra back again on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.

Not all storms are loud. Some come dressed in silence, wrapped in polite smiles and quiet nods. This blog is about those kinds of days—when my anxiety didn’t shout or tremble… it simply existed, quietly, persistently, painfully.

The scariest anxious episodes were the silent ones. No shaking, no tears—just a hollow stillness that echoed inside me. I’d go about my day like everything was perfectly normal—attending classes, chatting with friends, showing up to family functions with a smile that barely reached my eyes. From the outside, no one would suspect a thing.

But on the inside? I was screaming.

I’d laugh at jokes while holding back tears. I’d say “I’m fine” more out of habit than truth. I’d become so good at pretending, even I started to believe the act sometimes. And that’s the thing about silent anxiety—it’s so good at hiding that it convinces you that maybe it’s not that serious, not real enough to seek help.

But it was real. It is real.

There were days when I felt like a ghost in my own body, floating through rooms, conversations, and routines without truly being present. I didn’t feel sad or panicked—I just felt… nothing. That numbness terrified me more than any panic attack ever could.

I’ve learned that mental health isn’t always visible. Not every struggle is loud. Not every breakdown looks like tears and hyperventilation. Sometimes it’s just you, lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to feel anything at all.

But here’s what I want to remind you (and myself): even silent pain deserves attention. Even quiet battles are worth fighting. Healing begins the moment we acknowledge what we’ve been taught to hide.

Today, I’m still learning how to tune into that silence instead of shutting it out. I’m learning that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s strength. And that showing up, even in your quietest moments, is a victory in itself.
If you're someone silently fighting your own battles, please give yourself credit for simply surviving. That alone is brave.

If this piece resonated with you, or if you’ve ever carried invisible struggles behind loud laughter and tired smiles, I’d love for you to share your story or simply leave a comment below at MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL~

Let’s continue creating a space where we can talk about all sides of anxiety—the messy, the loud, and yes, even the quiet.
Let’s embrace the chaos together.

With love and light,
Pavithra 

Sacred But Suffocating: When Culture Meets Anxiety

Festival of Fears

Theme: Cultural Traditions & Anxiety

Hello my lovely readers—Pavithra here, back with another twist from MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.
Festivals. A time for color, food, celebration… and for me, silent panic. While everyone else danced to drumbeats and lit sparklers with joy, I often found myself shrinking in the shadows. Behind the vibrant sarees and forced smiles was a girl who just wanted to escape the crowd.

The noise, the greetings, the expectations to be polite, graceful, talkative—none of it came naturally. I remember once, during a grand family function, I excused myself just to sit inside a locked bathroom stall. Thirty minutes passed. I wasn’t sick—I just couldn’t breathe.

What people see as festive spirit, I often experience as performance pressure. Being asked to greet distant relatives, forced to answer questions about school or life, made to pose for pictures with people I barely knew—it drained every ounce of energy.
Wearing clothes I didn’t feel comfortable in, pretending to be someone who loved the crowd… was exhausting.
What no one talks about is how deeply cultural norms can affect someone with anxiety.
I don’t hate my culture—I love it. But sometimes, tradition doesn’t leave room for emotional space. And in those moments, I feel like a misfit in my own roots.

Over time, I’ve learned how to find my corners of calm amidst the chaos. I still attend festivals, but now I carry tiny anchors—my music, a book, a quiet balcony to sneak away to when it gets too much.
Because it's not about rejecting tradition, but finding ways to belong without losing yourself.

If you’ve ever felt like hiding during a celebration, trust me—you’re not alone. Let’s create space for honesty amidst all the rituals.
Drop your own festival stories in the comments, share this post with someone who gets it, and stay tuned for more messy, real, and healing stories right here on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.
Let’s embrace the chaos together.
With love,
Pavithra

The buzz beneath my skin

“Phone Calls & Panic” – Digital Anxiety

Theme: Modern Triggers

Hey lovely readers, Pavithra here. Welcome back to MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL—where the chaos of my mind meets the calm of storytelling.
We live in an age where we're more connected than ever. Messages fly across screens, notifications light up our devices, and "staying in touch" has never been easier. But for someone like me, this digital ease comes with a heavy cost—anxiety. Crushing, spiraling, irrational (but very real) anxiety.

Ringtone. Vibration. Missed call. Even a simple notification could set off a wave of panic I couldn’t explain. I’d stare at the screen, heart racing, wondering if replying late would upset someone—or worse—make them think I was ignoring them.
Phone calls weren’t just calls. They felt like surprise exams I wasn’t ready for. I’d overthink every ring: What if it’s bad news? What if I mess up the conversation? What if I say something weird?
Texts weren’t better. Sometimes I'd read a message and mentally draft a reply a dozen times—only to delete it and say nothing. And don’t get me started on group chats. The pressure to keep up, to not seem “off,” to reply just right—exhausting.
The modern world doesn't give you space to not be available. And when I tried to disconnect to protect my peace, I felt guilty. Like I was being rude, distant, or antisocial. It’s strange—how a simple ping can feel like a punch.

Digital anxiety isn’t talked about enough. We're constantly expected to engage, to react instantly, to be "on" 24/7—but some of us are just trying to breathe. I’m learning to set boundaries, mute the chaos, and remind myself that it’s okay not to be available all the time. Peace is a valid priority, even in a world obsessed with notifications.

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by something as small as a ringtone or a simple message? You’re not alone. Let’s talk about the anxiety hidden behind our screens.
Share your stories in the comments, subscribe for more of MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL, and remember—
Let’s embrace the chaos together.
With love,
Pavithra

Through the Cracks of the Mirror

The Mirror Monster

Theme: Self-esteem & Body Image

Hey there, twisted souls—Pavithra here, back again with another chapter from MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL, the space where raw stories meet real emotions.
Today, I want to talk about a monster. Not the one under your bed, or hiding behind the curtains, but the one that stares right at you every single day… from the mirror.

There was a time when all it took was one pimple to shatter my self-worth. One glance at my reflection and I’d spiral into an ocean of insecurities. My brain would pick apart every inch of me—my skin, my weight, my smile that wasn’t “perfect” enough.
It wasn’t just about how I looked. It was about what I thought I should look like.
I’d compare myself endlessly—to girls on Instagram with sculpted bodies and airbrushed skin, to people who seemed effortlessly beautiful while I stood in front of the mirror wishing to be anyone but myself.
One comment like, “You’ve put on weight,” or “Why don’t you try something different with your face?” could send me down a rabbit hole of self-doubt. And let me tell you—anxiety loves rabbit holes.

Over time, the mirror became less of a tool and more of a trigger. I'd avoid it some days. Other days, I’d stand in front of it too long, obsessed with fixing myself until I didn’t recognize the girl staring back.
It wasn’t vanity—it was a desperate need to be “enough.”
When you start tying your value to the way you look, anxiety becomes a constant whisper in your head, convincing you that you’re too much or not enough—all at once.

But here’s what I learned, slowly and painfully: your body is not the enemy.
It carries you, protects you, and holds your story—even the twisted ones.
Beauty isn’t found in flawlessness; it’s found in the way you hold yourself through the mess.
And peace? Peace is the best kind of pretty.

It took me years to understand that the mirror reflects only what’s on the outside. It doesn’t capture the strength it took to survive, or the courage to grow, or the kindness you give to others.
The mirror monster still creeps up on me sometimes—but now, I meet her with compassion instead of criticism.
Because this face, this body, this imperfect self… she’s been through hell and still shows up.

Have you ever faced your own mirror monster? Tell me about it—drop your thoughts in the comments, share your journey, and subscribe to MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL for more unfiltered moments straight from the heart.
Let’s strip off the filters, embrace the real, and remind each other that chaos is a kind of beauty too.
Let’s embrace it together.
With love (and a bit of mascara-smudged wisdom),
Pavithra

Midnight Mind Maze

Theme: Overthinking

Hello, lovely readers. It’s Pavithra here, back on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL—where chaos meets clarity.
If you’ve ever laid in bed, wide awake while the world sleeps, overthinking every little thing you’ve said or done, welcome to the maze. The midnight mind maze, where your thoughts take the wheel and drive you in circles.

The nights were the hardest. Everyone else was asleep, and yet, my brain wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Every conversation I had that day played on repeat, every “what if” sounded louder in the silence, and the fear of not having control over tomorrow became unbearable.
I'd stare at the ceiling, my heart pounding for no reason, thinking of all the things I could’ve said differently, all the things I wished I didn’t feel.
Sleep became a luxury I couldn't afford. My pillow knew my tears more than it knew rest. I felt trapped inside my own head, where the loudest noise came from within.

They say silence is peaceful. But for someone with an anxious mind, silence is when the real noise begins. I’m learning to breathe through the spiral, to gently untangle the knots of my thoughts, one sleepless night at a time.

If your nights feel like a battlefield too, know that you're not alone. Share your midnight thoughts in the comments, subscribe for more twisted tales, and let’s embrace this beautiful chaos together—right here on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.
With love and overthinking,
Pavithra 

The Quiet Panic Behind the Party Smile

Crowded Rooms, Empty Heart

Theme: Social Anxiety in Gatherings

Intro:
Hey lovely readers,
This is Pavithra, back again on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL, where I unpack the not-so-glamorous chaos life throws at me—with a dash of dark humor and a whole lot of truth.
Let’s talk about something that looks harmless on the outside but feels like a slow internal collapse: social gatherings.

Weddings. Birthdays. Festivals. Events meant for joy, laughter, bonding—and for someone like me, pure anxiety dressed in sequins.

It’s funny how everyone assumes that if you’re dressed well, smile politely, and hold a glass of juice in your hand, you must be having a good time. But what they don’t see is the mental tug-of-war happening behind that smile—the voice that screams “run,” the eyes that constantly scan the room for exits, the brain that begs for invisibility.

I wasn’t just being shy. I was surviving.

The Story:
From the moment I stepped into any crowded venue, a part of me would shrink. I’d rehearse small talk in my head. I’d try to smile just enough to blend in—but not too much to invite questions. I’d stand in corners hoping no one noticed me, while at the same time feeling horrible for not fitting in.

The noise, the lights, the unfamiliar faces—they'd all crash into me at once like waves, and suddenly, I’d feel like I was drowning while everyone else was swimming fine. I’d pray no one would ask me about my life, school, career, or anything that required speaking more than two words. And god forbid someone introduced me to a stranger. My heart would race, my palms would sweat, and my brain would short-circuit into awkward silence or oversharing.

And yet—I kept showing up.
Why? Because I didn’t want to seem “weird.” Because canceling last minute always came with guilt. Because a part of me wanted to feel included, even if my anxiety made me feel like a ghost floating through the room.

The worst part was the assumptions.
“Oh, you’re so quiet, you must be really shy.”
“If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
“You always look so calm, I’d never guess you were anxious.”
If only people knew that silence doesn’t always mean peace. Sometimes, it’s the loudest scream.

Social anxiety isn’t just discomfort—it’s fear dressed in politeness. It’s the mental checklist of survival tactics you run through before stepping out of your house. It’s the exhaustion you feel after just existing around too many people. And if you’ve felt it, I want you to know—you are not dramatic. You’re not broken. You’re just wired differently, and that’s okay.

With time, I’ve learned to create tiny safe spaces for myself—like slipping out for air, carrying headphones, calling a trusted friend mid-event, or just giving myself permission to leave. I’m still learning, still healing, still showing up… in my own way.

If you’ve ever faked a smile in a crowd just to hide the chaos inside—this one’s for you.
Share your story in the comments, message me, or simply hit that little heart if this blog made you feel a little less alone. Let’s rewrite the narrative of being “too quiet” or “too reserved” together. You never know who might feel seen because of your voice.

This is Pavithra, signing off from MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL—where I turn my chaos into connection, let's embrace chaos together , and maybe, help someone else feel a little lighter. 🖤

Echoes of Anxiety in a Classroom Shell

The Classroom Cage – Anxiety in School

Hello my lovely readers!
This is Pavithra back again on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL, where I spill the raw, unfiltered parts of life with a twist of emotion and (sometimes dark) humor. Today, we’re diving into the quiet chaos of school days—the ones people say are “the best time of your life,” but for someone like me, it was a different kind of reality. A twisted one.

They say school is the best time of your life.
For me, it was a battleground.

Every time I was called to speak in class, my hands would shake. Words got stuck in my throat. My heart? Pounding like a drum solo on loop. The fear wasn’t just about giving the wrong answer—it was about being seen. That terrifying spotlight moment where the entire class turns their eyes toward you, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every breath, every sound, every flaw.

One time during a classroom debate, I stood up only to completely blank out. The words I’d practiced the night before disappeared. I felt the walls closing in. My throat tightened. It was supposed to be a simple school activity, but inside me, it turned into an all-out war.

Looking back, I know it wasn’t just about the subject or the grades. It was about perfection. I wanted to be good—no, great. But that constant pressure created an anxious loop I couldn’t escape. And honestly? That’s a heavy weight for a 15-year-old to carry

School shaped a lot of who I am today, but not just in terms of education. It taught me resilience—the hard way. If you're someone who felt the same way in class, if you’ve ever wanted to disappear during a presentation or felt your heartbeat in your ears when asked a question—you’re not alone. We all have our own “classroom cage,” and it's okay to still be learning how to break free.

If this blog hit close to home, I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment below or share your own “classroom cage” moments. Let’s create a space where we turn pressure into power—and let's embrace chaos together.

With love and loud heartbeats,
Pavithra
Your storyteller at MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL~

chapter 2 : Lost in the Crowd: When Solo Travel and Anxiety Collide.

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Lost in the Crowd: My Worst Anxiety Episode in a Public Space

Hello, my lovely readers! This is Pavithra, back with another blog on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL. Today, I’m sharing a rather chaotic and anxiety-fueled experience—one that made me realize how terrifying solo travel can be when you have social anxiety.

November 17, 2024 – The Day I Derailed My Own Plans

The day started beautifully. I woke up feeling fresh, ready to take on whatever was in store for me. And then, a message popped up on my phone from a friend:

source : the independent 

"Are you in for the plan today?"

"A plan???" I frowned, racking my brain for any prior discussions. Without thinking much, I replied, "I'm on."

And just like that, I was going to a cinematography event.

Dressed in an all-black outfit, radiating confidence on the outside, I stepped out of my home with a smile. My mom, however, wasn’t as convinced. She knew my struggle with anxiety in crowded spaces. She knew how easily I spiral when surrounded by too many unfamiliar faces. But I reassured her—and myself—that everything would be fine.

The Moment It All Fell Apart

source : iStock  

The bus ride to the metro station was smooth. I even managed to enjoy the view from my window seat. But the moment I got down near the metro entrance, reality hit me like a truck.

A sea of people. A never-ending wave of strangers pushing past me, walking in all directions, their voices overlapping into a deafening noise.

source : Pinterest 

I froze.

My breathing turned shallow. My heart pounded. My hands turned clammy.

source : Cleveland clinic health essentials 

It was as if my brain had short-circuited. I was supposed to walk up the steps, scan my ticket, and board the metro. Simple, right? But at that moment, it felt impossible.

I forced myself to move forward. One step at a time, trying to drown out the chaos around me. I somehow made it onto the metro, but the discomfort didn’t fade. Instead, it got worse.

I felt unbearably drowsy, my bag felt like a hundred bricks, and the sheer number of people in that tiny, moving space was suffocating. That’s when it hit me—I couldn’t do this alone. Not today. Maybe not ever.

I wasn’t even at the event yet, and I already wanted to escape.

source : Shutterstock 

Ditching the Plan & Finding an Escape

I got down at a random station, aimlessly walking out into the city, still feeling dazed. I ended up entering a mall—alone, anxious, and completely drained.

I could feel my anxiety peaking, my body screaming at me to do something to stop this spiral. So, I did the only thing that made sense at that moment—I ordered food. A Mexican rice bowl, to be precise.

With shaking hands, I texted my best friend, explaining everything. She immediately called and said, "Stay there. I'm coming to get you."

Hearing her voice calmed me, but only a little. As the call ended, I sat there, staring at my food, lost in thought.

The Realization That Hit Me Hard

source: iStock 

Sitting in that food court, blasting music in my ears, I had a moment of clarity.

If I let this anxiety consume me every time I step out alone, I’m going to be stuck in a cycle of fear forever. It’ll ruin me. It’ll limit me.

I needed to do something about it.

A Friend’s Rescue & A Small Victory

When my best friend finally arrived, I felt an instant sense of relief. I had never been so happy to see her in my life. The moment she reached me, I clutched her hand tightly, and we walked around the mall together.

Little by little, the tension in my body eased. My grip loosened. My breathing steadied. The overwhelming fear slowly faded into the background.

I was okay again.

The day might have started with panic, but it ended with ice cream, donuts, and French fries—courtesy of my best friend, who knew exactly how to make things better.

You Are Not Alone—Let’s Talk About It!

There will be times in life when you find yourself alone in a crowd, lost in your own thoughts, and completely overwhelmed by anxiety. In those moments, it feels like the world is closing in on you.

But trust me—you are not alone.

source : pngtree 

Anxiety is real, and it’s exhausting. But talking about it, sharing our experiences, and finding support can make all the difference.

So, I want to hear from you! Have you ever had an anxiety episode in public? How did you handle it? Let’s create a safe space in the comments where we can support each other. 

If this blog resonated with you, share it with someone who might need to hear this today. Let’s spread awareness and remind each other that we are stronger than our anxiety!

 Follow MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL for more of my personal stories, experiences, and reflections on life, mental health, and everything in between.  Let’s embrace this chaos together!

With love,
Pavithra

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Chapter 1: Blood, Panic & A One-Way Ticket to Chaos

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When Womanhood Knocked & Anxiety Answered

Life was going pretty smoothly… until August 13, 2019.

Why that specific day? Because that’s the day I woke up to the most terrible surprise of my life.

Hello, my lovely readers! It’s Pavithra, back again on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL with another chaotic entry. In this blog, I’m sharing how I had my first-ever anxiety episode—triggered by my first period—while already drowning in the crisis that was 10th grade.

The Beginning of the End

source : vecteezy 

Growing up, I was caught between two worlds. My parents came from different cultures, different states, and different traditions, yet I had spent my childhood  in Bangalore, blissfully unaware of either. Until that day.

August 13, 2019.

You might be wondering, why this specific date? Well, that’s the day my body decided to betray me in the most dramatic way possible.

Everything had been going fine until that morning. I woke up, feeling slightly off—an unusual back pain, a weird heaviness in my body. And then, I spotted the first ever pimple on my face. Great, I thought, another failed skincare experiment. Irritated, I shrugged it off. Then came the cramps. A dull ache in my lower back, then my pelvis—it hurt. A lot. But I ignored it, blaming my sleeping posture 

And then, I walked into the bathroom.

There it was. A pool of red.

I froze. My heart pounded. My mind screamed.

Oh my god. It’s happening. I’m dying.

                                                            source: pexels 

I knew what periods were. I had read about them. Heard about them. Even expected them. But no one prepares you for that first time. No one tells you how it feels like a betrayal from your own body. Like one day, you’re a kid, and the next, the universe decides, “Congratulations! You’re a woman now. No take-backs.”

My brain short-circuited.

WHY? ME?
Wait—what do you mean “why me”?
I’m a girl. This was bound to happen.
But WHY SO SOON?!

                                              source: unsplash

Despite the storm inside my head, I somehow managed to stay calm. At least on the outside. I called out for my mom.

“MOM?? MOMMM!!”

She came running, probably assuming I had fallen, broken something, or set the house on fire. But no. I simply handed her the blood-stained towel like I was delivering evidence of a crime scene.

Her eyes widened. And then, she smiled.

“HOW?! Wait… aren’t you—?!” she trailed off, clearly overjoyed.

Excuse me? Overjoyed?

I was over here having a full-blown existential crisis, and my mother was acting like I had won an award. Apparently, in South Indian culture, a girl’s first period is a big deal. A whole festival kind of big deal. And I? I was clueless.

The Special Treatment (That I Did Not Ask For)

“Go take a shower and wash your hair,” she instructed.

Confused, I obeyed. But when I came out, freshly showered and wrapped in fresh clothes, the weirdness truly began.

I was made to sit in a separate room. A woman spread a mat in the corner and gestured for me to sit. Then, the bomb dropped.

“Don’t touch anything.”

Wait, what?

I watched in horror as my mom made frantic phone calls—to my dad, my relatives, possibly even the President for all I knew. My brother, confused and impatient, tried to sneak in to see me, but he wasn’t allowed near me either.

I felt like an outcast.

                                                 source : dreamsite.com

My own home felt foreign. My own family members were being instructed not to touch me. For the first time in my life, I felt different. Not in a good way.

Anxious. Alone. Overwhelmed.

And then, the worst news came.

“We’re going to your hometown,” my mom announced.

My hometown—a small, socially and technologically backward village in Andhra Pradesh. A place I had never been, but now, I was being shipped off there like a cultural sacrifice.

Panic set in.

My chest tightened. My breathing turned shallow. I wanted to cry, to scream, to run. But I was stuck. Stuck in a whirlwind of rituals and traditions that I didn’t understand.

The Rituals (Or: My Personal Horror Story)

The train ride to the village was a nightmare.

Cramps, exhaustion, discomfort—combine that with traveling in a crowded train, and you get third-degree torture.

When we arrived, I was paraded in front of family members I didn’t even know existed. My mom went around announcing my big news like she was handing out wedding invitations.

                                                 source : dreamsite.com

The anxiety? Oh, it skyrocketed.

Then came the rituals.

First, I was dressed in a white saree. Women surrounded me, adorning my hair with flowers, decorating me like some sort of festival deity. My uncle and aunt were assigned to perform the official rites.

I was made to sit on a woven coconut leaf mat while people I had never met walked in and out, offering me sweets, bananas, raw eggs, sesame oil, jaggery, and puffed rice.

I sat there, covered in turmeric, confused, exhausted, overstimulated.

My heart pounded. My hands felt clammy. My mind screamed again.

I don’t belong here.
Why is this happening?
Why am I being treated like an alien?!

I wanted to disappear.

                                                 source : iStock

Surviving the Chaos

For seven days, I was trapped in this unfamiliar world. Seven days of being excluded, isolated, and paraded like a showpiece. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything or anyone. It was like my very existence had become impure.

By the seventh day, I was done.

Finally, the rituals ended. The restrictions were lifted. And just like that, I was allowed to exist normally again.

It was overwhelming.

I had survived the most bizarre experience of my life. My first period, my first anxiety episode, my first cultural deep-dive—all at once.

As I packed my bags to leave, I realized something.

This experience? It was one for the books. A twisted, chaotic, anxiety-inducing, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

And now, it’s a memory.

One that I’m sharing with you.

Because life doesn’t come with a manual, but if it did, mine would be written in the strangest, most twisted font imaginable.

                                             source :VOI

Let’s Talk!

Have you ever had a moment where life threw you into an unexpected cultural experience? Or maybe your first period story was just as chaotic as mine?

Drop a comment below and share your experiences—I’d love to hear them! And if you enjoy my twisted tales, don’t forget to subscribe and stick around for more. Let’s embrace this chaos together!

Until next time,
Pavithra~

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Embracing the Chaos: Welcome to MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL .

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Welcome to MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL.

                                                       source : iStock  

Life doesn’t come with a manual, but if it did, mine would be written in the strangest, most twisted font imaginable. Some chapters would be hilarious, others downright chaotic, and a few would leave you wondering how I even made it this far. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The unexpected turns, the highs, the lows, and the moments that shape us into who we are.

Who Am I?

I’m Pavithra—a storyteller, an overthinker, and someone who has learned to find beauty in life’s chaos. I’ve always been drawn to the raw and unfiltered side of life, the part people don’t always talk about. Through this blog, I hope to give those moments a voice, to share the good, the bad, and the beautifully twisted.

Why MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL?

                                                 source : iStock

Because life is messy. Because sometimes, the best way to heal is to write it all out. This blog is my unfiltered space to share life’s unexpected turns, raw emotions, and the occasional sarcasm-filled rant. Whether it’s personal stories, mental health struggles, self-discovery, or lessons learned the hard way, you’ll find it all here—with a little bit of dark humor to keep things interesting.

What You Can Expect

Expect raw honesty, a little bit of poetry, unexpected plot twists, and the occasional life advice that even I struggle to follow. Some days, it’ll be deep reflections, other days, a humorous take on life’s absurdity. Either way, I promise it’ll be real.

Join the Chaos

If you’ve ever felt like life is one big rollercoaster—messy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little too fast—then you’re in the right place. Let’s embrace the chaos together. Stick around, drop a comment, share your own stories, or just silently nod along as you read.

Welcome to MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL. Let the journey begin.

                                                 

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