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Permission Granted: Why Your Weekend Needs More Pink, Pajamas, and Peace.

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  The Psychology of Cosy We talk about self-care like it’s a checklist — face mask, candle, silence. But if we’re being honest, real restoration isn’t passive. It’s intentional. Relaxing is what happens when you collapse. Recharging is what happens when you choose. It’s the difference between zoning out and zoning in. Between scrolling and actually savoring. Between surviving the week and gently curating your weekend. To recharge, you need boundaries. You need softness. You need a space that feels like it belongs to you — not just visually, but emotionally. That’s where the pink comes in. That’s where the pajamas matter. There’s a particular kind of quiet that settles over everything when the laptop finally closes and the only task left is to feel your duvet. We live in a world that loves busy. We’re taught to chase, check, produce. But sometimes…the most radical thing you can do is opt out completely. This isn’t just about “taking a break.” It’s about creating an environment where...
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Life looks like brown sugar this month.

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 There’s a sweetness in the air lately.  Not loud. Not artificial. Just… warm.  Like something baked into the day.  Like skin after a long shower.  Like memory, if memory had a scent. I’ve been leaning into it.  Letting the warmth linger.  Letting the sugar stay.I don’t know if it’s comfort or indulgence.  But I know it’s mine this month. If you’ve been craving softness too—  the kind that smells like cookies and feels like care—  you might find it.         I didn’t plan to smell like dessert. It just… happened. One day it was sugar in the shower. The next, vanilla on my wrists. Now even my towel smells like comfort.      I think scent has memory. And maybe mine needed reminding. Of warmth. Of softness. Of sweetness that doesn’t need permission.So I’ve let it stay. Let it settle into my skin. Let it follow me through the day.     If you’ve felt that too—that quiet craving for sugar and stillne...
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Welcome To Journaled.

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     23. Twenty-three reads on my first post. That's... jarring, especially considering that I had no expectations. I can't help but ask: Why are you here? How did you get here? Don't answer those now, we'll get to that later.        As for now, I officially welcome you... here. I started a blog, named it Journaled and have no idea what it will be about. Yet, here you are. In my space. Which I assumed would never be visited. But here we are.      I should express delight in your being here, shouldn't I? But alas, I can't. Because I don't feel delighted. I feel uncertain... of my —no,our— journey ahead. What I do know for sure is that; my mind will continue to be restless and that might keep my blinking cursor busy.      I can't truly tell you the reason for creating JOURNALED. And I cannot say for sure what it would be about. I, ironically, know what it will not be about. And I have a list: ● Nothing.      N...
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JOURNALED.

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. How Did You Get Here?         No, really? How did you get here? What brought you here? I want to know. Don't tell me though. It wouldn't be fair. Especially seeing as I myself don't know what brought me here either. I however know what has spurred me to this point. A restless mind and a blinking cursor. Very different but very much alike. Both just waiting to be used.          Have you ever had an unrelenting feeling that you should be doing something... exciting, but you just can't lay a finger on what? Instead, you just let the feeling wrap itself around your consciousness till it gets kicked to the curb, dissolves into your unconsciousness or shrivels up, wanes and dies. Sounds pretty morbid, doesn't it? Unfortunately, that's what happens more times than not.          And when it doesn't happen that way —the few times it doesn't happen that way— the feeling grows and grows... Until it morphs and explode...
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