Jaded and Jewelry

From Ending to Beginning

A song for anyone who’s ever faced the dark and didn’t know how to name it. These words come from a place I never thought I’d return from. And now that I have, I offer them—not as answers, but as a mirror.

There are stories I never wanted to tell. Too deep. Too intimate. Too hard. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from surviving them, it’s this: Life is meant to be shared.

We spend so much time trying to look like we have it together. To be clean, composed, efficient. I was that person. Every shirt folded. Every email answered. Every receipt in order. Until one night, it all unraveled. Quietly. Invisibly. Alone.

The Story I Never Wanted to Tell

It wasn’t just one moment. It was three. Three moments that shattered me in a year I still can’t fully comprehend.

A Night I Almost Didn’t Return From

One night, I fell into what felt like the end. Not metaphorically—literally. My body was asleep, but my soul had already started its exit. I saw a tunnel. I heard music beyond the edges of the universe. People I loved, long gone, came to greet me like I’d just landed at the airport for my 100th birthday. A voice told me I had finished what I came here to do. I could go now.

And I wanted to. It was peaceful. Beautiful. But something in me whispered: Not yet. There’s still something undone. And just like that, I was back in my bed, gasping, with tears soaking my face. I hadn’t even cried.

The Day Everything Went Dark

A few months later, the god-forbidden day. I was walking down the street and smelled smoke. Two men stood in front of me. Then blackness. Three days later, I woke up in the hospital—bruised, scarred, and changed.

Panic attacks became my new normal. I couldn’t function. I was terrified all the time.

When I Stood on the Edge

Even with therapy and meds for PTSD, I broke. The third moment—the lowest.

I climbed to the rooftop of a ten-story building. Looked down. Not afraid of dying. Just tired of surviving. The only thing that stopped me was how dirty the streets looked from above.

That’s the truth. Not courage. Not hope. Just disgust.

It’s hard to live. But sometimes, it’s even harder to die.

What Suddenly Didn’t Matter

Looking back, I don’t share these moments to shock you. I share them because they changed me. I learned that when you’re at the edge, everything feels small.

The career you built with your whole soul. The money you saved by skipping little pleasures. The deadlines. The arguments. The chores.

We live in such complexity. And yet when you're teetering between life and death, even the biggest problems feel like dust. From far away, they seem completely meaningless.

What I Choose Now

So I changed. Not all at once. But one tiny, defiant choice at a time. I started living for me.

I buy jewelry—shiny little things that cost as much as a car, maybe even a house.

I order the overpriced coffee and milk tea—whenever the craving hits.

I write wild, raw stories like this one to strangers I may never meet.

And today? I am happier than I ever was. I have a life I once could only dream of.

The Only Truth I Know

There is no reason to life.

Only the will to live it fully.

I have no desire to sit behind a desk that made me jaded for so long. I hope, one day, something in this clicks with you. Something that reminds you to choose beauty—in yourself, in your life, in every single fleeting moment.