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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 ...

Why Can't I

I am scared of dying alone..
I am scared of crying to my very bone.
I am scared of hands which detach..
I am.scared of any familiar touch.
I am scared of lying asleep with no one
Bothering to wake me up.
I am scared of going on with no one
Asking me to stay over.
I am scared of trying harder and then
Running into a dead end.
I am scared of closing eyes and waking
Up to a room full of strangers.
I am scared of tears flowing through cheeks which are unstoppable.
I am scared of words that means nothing.
I am scared of promises that always fall out.
I am scared of happiness which is short lived.
I am scared of innocence not so meaningful anymore.
I am scared of hidden stories beneath deep eyes.
I am scared of lies covered under pretty faces.
I am scared of politely killing someone.
I am scared of kindness withholding wrath.
I am scared of anger struggling to pounce on.
I am scared of smiles that I will never again encounter.
I am scared of lives just slipping away from my finger tips.
Sweaty hands dampening grip..
Why can’t I save anyone by the end of this trip.

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