The Mind of Mr. Mak

  school was ruining my mental health. i was in a phase where i hated myself, couldn’t stand to look myself in the mirror. until i said fuck it and dropped the fuck out. the shame didn’t just touch my family name — it wrapped around it. whispers, advice, guilt dressed up as concern. everyone urging me to “just finish” like i was one lap from freedom. last year, seven credits left, the finish line in sight — but every step felt like quicksand. i didn’t need another lap. i needed out. and still — i caught everyone telling me to go back, until i realized everything was a projection. their fear. their unfulfilled dreams. their guilt. all of it disguised as “advice.” none of it had anything to do with me. i stood 10 toes on my decision, and the rest is history. because no one tells you this part: leaving isn’t always weakness — sometimes it’s survival. sometimes it’s the first time you stop living on autopilot and start living on instinct. i dropped out of the ...

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my ancestors were never just ordinary. they were the ones who held it all together in silence. the mother who carried hunger in her stomach so her children could eat. the father who buried his own dreams to keep the family alive. the healer who whispered prayers in secret because faith was safer than rebellion. the dreamer who questioned gods and kings but hid his tongue for survival. they weren’t remembered by name, but they were remembered by weight. and that weight passed down. a gift. a curse. a fire buried so deep in the blood, it had to wait centuries to surface. and then it split. in this lifetime, it chose two. my sister writes warmth. she is the healer with words. her voice is medicine our ancestors never received. she speaks to the child still trembling in the dark, to the heart that never heard “you are safe.” her writing restores gentleness, a reminder that our family was never meant to live only in pain. i write fire. i am the myth-maker. my ...

  there was a time when i called them brothers. we moved together, laughed together, broke bread together. but the moment of truth always comes. one chose loyalty, the other chose noise. he picked the snake with the silver tongue, thinking smoke would cover the lies. said, “my mom’s sick, i need to take care of her.” but i caught him instead — laughing, smoking with that snake. betrayal don’t always roar. sometimes it whispers excuses. that was the last straw. i cut him. clean. no anger, no tears — just clarity. and when i walked, others followed. because real always recognizes real, and leadership don’t need a crown. fast forward, a year gone. he comes back saying, “you were right.” and i smiled. not out of spite, but because the universe always finds a way. you don’t have to wait for the sweetness of lady karma, she finds you when it’s finally your turn. forgiveness? yeah, it lives in my chest. but don’t confuse forgiveness with access. forgi...