There was a time when I asked everyone else what I should do. I trusted their opinions more than my own feelings. If something went wrong, I blamed myself for choosing. If something went right, I credited luck. Deep down, I was scared of making mistakes. Scared of being judged. Scared of failing and proving my fears right. So I stayed small. I stayed silent. I stayed unsure.

John Keats saw beauty in the simplest things: the shape of a leaf, the tremble of a voice, the silence of a night sky. To him, beauty wasn’t an escape from pain; it was pain transformed into meaning. His famous line, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” wasn’t just poetry. It was his faith. He believed that even when the world fades, beauty remains.