It wasn't easy for him to act the way he wanted to. He tried—but it felt forced. Instead, he ended up just… different. Not better, just different for a few seconds. But the environment around him? That shit kept dragging him back. Back to the same old fears, that same shy version of himself he was trying to ditch.
The thoughts he thought he'd beaten—nah—they kept comin' back. Loud. Constant. Almost like they refused to change. And slowly, he got tired. Lazy even. Eventually, he went silent. But this time, not because of fear. Not 'cause he was hiding. This silence was different. It was for him.
No unnecessary feelings, no noise—just his own thoughts. Just him.
He started pulling his focus away from people and onto himself. It wasn't smooth. It messed with his head. He started doubting himself. Every time he saw others laughing, working hard, vibing with their people—he felt left out. It made him question everything all over again.
He thought:
"I need friends. I can't do this alone. But that don't mean I gotta be fake either."
So he made a choice:
"I need to open my mind, be broader, and just focus on me. Me and myself. I won't let others' thoughts influence my own anymore."
If it takes a month of silence? Cool. I'll do it. I'll go through all of it.Until I figure out how I work. Until I'm surrounded by people who get it. But hold up—not just any people. Good people. Real ones.
Wrong again.
What I really needed… was to figure me out.How I show up. My health. My studies. My mindset. My needs.That's what I had to focus on.
So I took a deep breath. Started seeing the bright side instead of zoning in on the ones who blamed me for being who I am. I stopped fighting for space in people's minds and started creating space in my own.
I chose to vibe with the people who uplift me. I chose to chill with people I genuinely liked.Then I went hardcore.
Built a schedule—for my body, for my sleep, for my studies—and followed that thing like a madman for 6 months.
Most important thing?I started having real convos with myself. In front of the mirror.I talked loud. Tracked my progress.Missed a day? I'd double it the next. That was the rule.Halfway through… I looked at myself and said:
"Look at you, bro. You don't even look like the old you anymore."
There were still those thoughts, yeah.People-pleasing ones. Doubts.At first, I gave in. But then—I stopped myself.
"Why the fuck should I care?"
I stopped reacting so much.Started doing something instead—like opening my books, revising a new topic, building a new habit.
I even started hanging out with people and throwing jokes just for fun—that was new.Stopped blaming others.Started tweaking me.
And now?
My name's Yellow.Used to live life on everyone else's terms.Now? I live on my terms.And it took a crazy amount of mental training to get here.
But I gave it everything.And I'm not stopping now.