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Friendly Addiction - Culture Is Not Tradition — It Means Showing Up

Don’t talk culture to me when you don’t have the emotional quotient that goes with it. When people speak about culture, they often point to traditions, religion, heritage, or social identity. But to me, culture is something far deeper than rituals or backgrounds. Culture is the act of showing up. It is the willingness to be present when no one else is there — when trauma is difficult to process, when loss creates an endless vacuum, when grief has the capacity to swallow the life out of someone. Culture reveals itself in the moments when life is at its most fragile. After death. After accidents. At funerals. During interventions. During rehabilitation. After emotional breakdowns. After panic attacks. After meltdowns. In such moments, human beings do not need lectures or explanations. They need presence. Souls need connection to face the unknown. Yet often people confuse culture with very different things. They measure culture by professional achievements, by the titles they hold ...

Troubled

I hate listening to songs,
Hate pondering wrongs.
I hate making faults,
Then absent mindedly admitting flaws.
I hate trusting fate,
I hate as it turns out lame.
I hate moments that I cry,
When someone bothers me with why.
I hate that tears just roll,
Like an evil troll.
When right then spring flowers bloom,
For a false heirloom.
Does it pain to be on the other side,
Or they just carefully pick the safe side.
I hate people who smile,
Underneath the heavier trial.
I hate making up,
Everytime it’s breaking up.
I hate wisdom,
Of island uncanny.
I hate truth,
Just blurted ruthlessly.
I hate sympathy,
Without even knowing what’s it like.
I hate long waits,
With endless traits.
I hate that gone,
Means trudging alone.
I hate being troubled,
Despite being the one gobbled by false hopes.
I hate that’s nothing new..
And I do hate the fact that I can never be you.

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