life at first salary. a good worker is like a candle, it burns itself to give light to others. it either work to pay bills, or work toward passion, or work without direction at all. some say there is a “perfect job” out there, but once it arrives, it learns the truth: the job is never just the job. the environment matters. the people matter. policies, rules, well-being, all of it shapes the work. new laws reshape minds. systems shift. it must improvise. management alters ever

life at first 미안해 . 미안해 for its selfishness. maybe it’s too late. 미안해. its world blurs, fragile as a soap bubble in the night. winter presses its icy icicle against the glass. the streets glimmer with frost, & everything feels impossibly heavy. it waits, just in case. please, don’t go. please, don’t forget it. it is 미안해. will it come back? moonlight spills on the rippling surface of the water as if the eye that once held its light, the hands it had already learned to trust, n

accountability is praised while reciprocity is ignored; jealousy surface its ugly head, comparison still poisons, & closeness, especially with parents, is never magic but labor that drains and costs time. many parents carry unnamed weight from decades that dismissed mental health and elevated pride, face, and comparison; breaking generational trauma is encouraged, yet the work falls on the child to explain, repeat, resist, and slowly dismantle beliefs hardened over decades. p

life at first december. newly proposed, dreaming of everything wonderful. it was the dream: the best job, a doctor fiancé, ballrooms and beauty, friends and laughters. so why, so why was it not satisfied? because it only knew what it had been taught. it remembered coming into the world with empty hands, & leaving the same way. so did any of it matter? ily replied: "as you came into this world with nothing, so you will leave it the same.” they met in the city that never sleep

life at first remembering. anyone can say “i love you,” but if the heart that says it cannot remember the very moment it loved, then the words fall short, like pollens fallen from a wither flower. if a stranger can remember more of its story than the people who once stood closest to it, what does that say? “i love you” is a feeling, a softness, a saying, but “i remember” is the gesture that gives that feeling gravity, a weight that stays even after the emotion drifts. they sp

The list was long, but somehow still short, at least that’s what Mai kept telling herself as she dragged her suitcase through the airport that was rapidly turning into a sleepover camp for stranded travelers. Flights were being cancelled left and right. People were rushing, bargaining, praying for a seat home, trying to make it back for that once-a-year long weekend with the people they loved… or at least tolerated. Mai didn’t mind the grease to come. Thanksgiving was the one

life at first 标准 . but love have no 标准 at all. when a man and a woman have no money, it'd think it should be the same. but no, a woman without money is someone men are expected to provide for, a man without money is someone many women quietly walk away from. after its final heartbreak, can a heart really fall in love a second time? no. a novel may reveal new insights and meanings each time it read it, but its ending never changes. adult life isn't a fairy tale. does it disap

life at first what if. sh*tney said it tried. it'd like to blame it all on life . stranger danger. where online is the new living room, where they meet without ever meeting, where faces blur behind blue glass, & hearts lag in seconds. almost is never enough. maybe they weren't right . but that's a lie, that's a lie. it goes to it like the first snowfall, melting on arrival, while somewhere else, sh*tney is still sweating. & bazagonas, they can deny it all they want, but in ti

life at first sleep. it's been having sleepless nights, trying to stay strong, but not every battle is meant to be fought. it wasn't built to bleed for each scar; some seams are meant to stay apart. but rebirth doesn't rise from holding too tight; it is okay to rest, it is okay to fall, it is okay to be still, to dim the light; sometimes, strength is knowing when to surrender the fight; for silence can be louder than any crown of speech, & still, it dares to take up space. jo

life at first fire. don't set itself on fire just to keep them warm; Disclaimer: Just a heads-up, if you happen to stumble upon any affiliate links on our website, they might sprinkle some extra dough on us, no cost to you, to keep the site running smoothly, and who knows, we might even score a delightful cup of coffee or a refreshing drink to supercharge our writing! Your incredible support means the world to us! 😄 #createtogether #haveasipoftea #lifeatfirst #lifeatfirstfir

life at first wish. a tea cup holding the moon, look into its eyes, say it, it wants to go back. come closer. if this is its birthday...

life at first happiness. is it searching for happiness? no. because where there is a rise, there must be a fall. where there is...

CC Have you forgotten? I hear people say we don't need this war, but I say, there's something worth fighting for. What about our freedom,...

life at first labor. yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, & the present, always a gift. when it was young, it believed it would...

life at first   bubble . every year the rain washes away the years it spent with it, & it also washes away the tears of strangers— to...

life at first bứtphá. have you ever bứtphá, broken through a quiet storm within yourself? when duyên đã hết , quietly slipped away,...

life at first gold. the empress of thailand, empress ทอง, before its death, left behind a final wish: that its story, in all its sorrow and beauty, be passed down by words of mouth only, never written in history. it had once been sent on a mission: to use its beauty, wit, and body to win the heart of the king of ayutthaya. not for love. but for vengeance. its people had been slaughtered. families enslaved. its homeland left in ruins by the king’s brutal hand. it believed, mi

life at first nothing the white horse passes through the early morning market. a stove lit up, smoke curling up, hasty pedestrians...

life at first step up. was it adopted? or born into the life by blood? did it grow up with its kin— or with the family it built from the ashes of the bones of longing? did it ever leave what it once called home, only to return years later to the ruins of what it left behind? to find everything changed— or worse, unchanged? is it still the same person underneath? or have the layers peeled so far back that even the mirror turns its face? it searched the world for peace— but fou

CC: KDH life at first pattern. it tried to hide, but something crack. it tried to sing back a reply, but the sound fell flat— & couldn't...