A PERSONAL BLOG

Evoke.

I am a Software Engineer and a Hobby Blogger
Based in Pakistan

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Trust in its Purest Form

Sometimes, life teaches us its deepest lessons in the smallest, most unexpected moments. Mine came during a family visit when I had the chance to spend time with my little cousin—a girl who is barely a quarter of my age. We’re not particularly close. In fact, we’ve only met a handful of times, and those interactions were the kind you’d expect between distant relatives—a polite hello, a smile, and not much else. But this time was different. When she arrived, there wasn’t much fanfare. She shyly peeked at me from behind her mother’s arm, her little face a mixture of curiosity and caution. I greeted her warmly, unsure if she would even remember me, but then I thought, Let’s see where this goes. At first, our interaction was casual—no big gestures or awkward silences, just the kind of polite exchanges you’d expect between distant relatives. She sat nearby, quietly observing, occasionally answering when someone spoke to her. I wasn’t trying to win her over or make a big impression, but I found myself curious about how we might connect. After some time, I asked if she’d like to join me while I worked on something simple—a game, a small activity. To my surprise, she came over easily, no hesitation or shyness. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. Little by little, we found our rhythm—playing, sharing a few smiles, and laughing at little things. It felt easy, almost like we’d been close all along. What stood out wasn’t any particular moment. It was how natural it all felt. She didn’t need me to entertain her, and I wasn’t trying to force a connection. We just spent time together, and in that simplicity, a quiet sense of trust grew between us. The visit passed quickly, as all good moments do. Soon, it was time for her to leave. As she got ready to go, she surprised me. Instead of a quick goodbye, she went up to my brother, someone she had barely interacted with during the visit, and asked him: “Can we be friends?” Her question, so simple and direct, caught me off guard. I watched as my brother smiled and nodded, and she beamed in response. It wasn’t jealousy or hurt that I felt in that moment. Instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of awe. This little girl, so young and unassuming, had already grasped something I think many of us adults struggle with: the courage to trust openly and the wisdom to seek connection. That moment lingered with me long after she left. It made me wonder: What makes a child trust someone? Children, I realized, don’t rely on elaborate explanations or years of history to form relationships. Their trust is rooted in something far deeper and more intuitive. They trust those who make them feel safe. It’s not about how often you meet or what you say. It’s about the little things: the warmth in your tone, the patience in your actions, and the sincerity in your smile. My cousin trusted me because, in those few hours, I showed her that she mattered—not with words, but with my presence. And when she felt that sense of security, she felt brave enough to extend it to my brother as well. Her question—Can we be friends?—was more than just a child’s innocent query. It was a profound reminder of how simple and beautiful trust can be when stripped of the complications we adults add to it. It reminded me that trust isn’t about the years you’ve known someone or the things they’ve done for you. It’s about the moments where you feel seen, heard, and valued. And most importantly, it showed me that trust is not a limited resource. It grows when shared. My cousin didn’t feel the need to guard her trust; instead, she let it flow freely, allowing it to strengthen her bonds with the people around her. Now, when I think back to that day, I smile. My little cousin, in her innocent way, taught me something I hope I never forget: Trust is simple. It’s about how we make others feel, not just in big, life-changing moments but in the quiet, everyday ones. If we approach our relationships with the same openness and courage as a child, maybe we’d all feel a little less guarded and a little more connected. So the next time someone, especially a child, asks, “Can we be friends?” take a moment to appreciate the purity and vulnerability in that question. It’s not just a request—it’s a gift. One that says, “I see you, I feel safe with you, and I want to know you better.” What an honor it is to be trusted by a heart so pure.

Beyond the Appearance

In a world obsessed with perfection, where flawless skin, and Snapchat filters set the bar for beauty, it’s easy to forget what truly makes someone unforgettable. Sure, physical attraction can grab your attention for a moment, but it’s those deeper connections the quirks, the shared moments of laughter, the empathy, and the kindness that make someone truly unforgettable. I have this friend, someone who’s the epitome of physical perfection. Tall, muscular, and effortlessly stylish. He walks into a room, and people can’t help but notice. It’s almost as if he’s got the kind of physique that the world tells us we should all aspire to. Yet, despite all the attention he receives for his looks, there’s something about him that never quite sits right. While the world admires him from the outside, I’ve had the chance to see who he really is. At first, I thought his good looks were all there was to him. I mean, who wouldn’t be drawn to someone with that kind of physique? But as time passed, I began to see the cracks in the facade. The more I got to know him, the more I realized that beneath the polished exterior, his character was... lacking. He often pretended to be sophisticated, flaunting his “worldly wisdom,” but it was clear that it was all an act. At times, he seemed almost desperate to impress others, to prove that he was more than just another pretty face. But over time, his true colors started to show, he wasn’t as thoughtful or as caring as he wanted people to believe. It became painfully obvious that his sense of ethics and morality was almost non existent. He’d throw others under the bus when it suited him. He was looking for the next opportunity to step on someone else to climb higher. It was a pattern I began to recognize: the more attention he got for his looks, the more he relied on his appearance to mask his lack of substance. But when you peeled back the layers, there was nothing truly admirable beneath the surface. I found myself comparing him to another friend, one who, by conventional standards, doesn’t stand out in the crowd. This friend isn’t physically imposing no perfect physique but they possess something far more powerful: integrity. This friend is the kind of person who lives by their values, someone who would go out of their way to help someone in need, even when it’s inconvenient for them. I’ll never forget how they showed up for me during a time when I felt completely lost. No questions asked, they were there, offering support and understanding, asking nothing in return. The contrast between the two of them couldn’t be starker. While the first friend was busy flaunting his looks, trying to maintain a polished image, the second friend was quietly making the world around them a better place with their actions, their empathy, and their unshakable sense of right and wrong. The more I spent time with my friend of substance, the more I realized that what truly makes someone beautiful isn’t how they look on the outside, but how they make you feel, how they treat others, and how they show up in your life when you need them the most. It was in this stark contrast, between someone who had the world at his feet because of his appearance, but lacked any real depth, and someone who might not be considered conventionally attractive but was rich in character, that I began to understand something important. Physical beauty can only take you so far. Sure, it might open doors or turn heads, but it’s the kind of person you are the choices you make, how you treat others, and the integrity you stand by that truly leaves an impression. It was a painful realization at first, but it taught me something valuable. You can have the most sculpted physique, wear the trendiest clothes, and live a life filled with material wealth, but if you don’t have the moral backbone to back it up, it all feels hollow. And then there’s the person who might not turn heads in the same way but has an undeniable beauty because of the way they treat the world, the way they make people feel seen and valued. It’s that friend who, even without the accolades or the perfect body, becomes the one you turn to in times of need because their character is unshakable. Looking back, I see that the true lesson here wasn’t just about looks or appearance. It was about the kind of person I want to be, the kind of people I want to surround myself with. It’s easy to be fooled by someone’s exterior, to be impressed by their polished persona. But it’s far more meaningful to be surrounded by those who show their true selves, the ones who stand by their morals and ethics no matter what the world thinks. Those are the people who build lasting connections, who bring light into your life in ways that no physical appearance could ever match. And as for the friend with the perfect physique but hollow character? I’ve come to realize that he’s just a reminder. A reminder that while we may all appreciate good looks in the moment, it’s the substance behind the smile, the actions behind the words, and the heart behind the facade that ultimately determine what makes someone truly unforgettable.