From the outside, I was the child everyone admired — always busy, always shining. School days were filled with rhythm and color: dance classes, drawing competitions, cooking experiments, sports tournaments. I never left space for silence. I didn’t know then how loud that silence could become.
But life, as it often does, took a sharp, unexpected turn.

When the Lights Dimmed? My parents, who married young, were still learning how to raise a daughter growing into a woman. As adolescence hit me like a wave, it hit them just as hard — only in different ways. I went from a vibrant, expressive child to someone unrecognizable. Quiet. Withdrawn. Detached. I couldn’t explain what was happening inside me. All I knew was that the things I once loved didn’t light me up anymore. I felt heavy, empty, misunderstood. For three long years — starting at just sixteen — I was silently fighting battles that no one around me could see.

A Screen Full of Mountains and a Spark then one ordinary evening, lost in the maze of the internet, I stumbled upon a travel video. Foggy mountain roads, people laughing near bonfires, and the slow rhythm of boots crunching leaves. I remember feeling something I hadn’t felt in a while — curiosity. What would it feel like to stand in that mist? To breathe in air so clean it could sweep away the chaos inside ? That small spark was all I needed.

Two Wheels and a New Beginning soon after, I began riding a bike. What started as a simple act of movement turned into a soulful addiction. The engine’s rumble beneath me, the wind carving paths across my skin, the blur of trees speeding past — it was freedom. It was release. Every time I rode towards a new place, I rode a little further from my past.

It wasn’t luxury or cities that healed me. It was raw, untouched nature — places that smelled of rain and earth. I’d sit on rocks beside waterfalls, breathe in fog from mountaintops, let the sun kiss my tired skin. Every inhale felt like therapy. Every exhale released pain I didn’t know I was still carrying. I’d close my eyes, take a deep breath, and suddenly, everything felt okay. I began to bloom silently, like the wildflowers I passed on lonely roads.

As the days turned into journeys and journeys into stories, I realized I had slowly stitched myself back together. No therapist, no textbook, no pill — just movement, air, trees, and trust in the journey. I had once lost myself. But nature helped me remember who I was before the world got too loud.

If You’re Lost, Wander.

You don’t need a map when your heart is your compass. If you’re carrying pain, confusion, or silence — walk into the forest, ride into the wind, chase a sunrise. Travel not to escape life, but to find the parts of yourself that got buried beneath it.

Because sometimes, when you ride far enough… you finally come home — to yourself.