After writing over 1000 articles…
After years of learning SEO, chasing pageviews, setting up AdSense, staying active on social media…
I’m tired.
The exhaustion is real.
It’s the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix.
It’s the kind of tired that builds up slowly over time — when passion becomes pressure, and joy becomes just another deadline.
Right now, I feel like walking away.
And you know what? That’s okay.
No one is forcing me to keep going.
I’ve given so much of myself to this blog — my thoughts, my time, my voice, my heart.
I used to love writing so deeply.
This blog was my world. My escape.
It was my voice, when I didn’t know how to speak.
My healing, when life hurt too much.
My little corner of the world where I mattered.
My story, told in pixels and paragraphs.
But lately… that love has faded.
And when that fire starts to burn out — when writing no longer brings the joy it once did
I’m tired.
The exhaustion is real.
It’s the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix.
It’s the kind of tired that builds up slowly over time — when passion becomes pressure, and joy becomes just another deadline.
Right now, I feel like walking away.
And you know what? That’s okay.
No one is forcing me to keep going.
I’ve given so much of myself to this blog — my thoughts, my time, my voice, my heart.
I used to love writing so deeply.
This blog was my world. My escape.
It was my voice, when I didn’t know how to speak.
My healing, when life hurt too much.
My little corner of the world where I mattered.
My story, told in pixels and paragraphs.
But lately… that love has faded.
And when that fire starts to burn out — when writing no longer brings the joy it once did
— it’s not just “losing interest.”
It feels like losing a part of myself.
People might say, “It’s just a blog.”
But it’s not just a blog.
It was mine.
And letting it go… hurts more than I expected.
This — this right here — is grief.
And it’s okay to grieve.
It’s okay to cry over something I once loved so deeply.
I don’t need to explain this to anyone.
Only I know how hard it was to let it go.
Only I know the love behind that delete button.
So if I feel empty right now, or like I’ve lost myself — it’s okay.
It’s okay to rest.
To be quiet.
To stop performing.
To stop creating.
Maybe one day, I’ll return — in a new form, with a softer heart.
Or maybe not.
Maybe this chapter is truly closing.
Either way… I’m proud of what I’ve created.
I’m thankful for every single moment this blog gave me.
I honour it. I release it.
And I set myself free.
— siinuruldotcom
It feels like losing a part of myself.
People might say, “It’s just a blog.”
But it’s not just a blog.
It was mine.
And letting it go… hurts more than I expected.
This — this right here — is grief.
And it’s okay to grieve.
It’s okay to cry over something I once loved so deeply.
I don’t need to explain this to anyone.
Only I know how hard it was to let it go.
Only I know the love behind that delete button.
So if I feel empty right now, or like I’ve lost myself — it’s okay.
It’s okay to rest.
To be quiet.
To stop performing.
To stop creating.
Maybe one day, I’ll return — in a new form, with a softer heart.
Or maybe not.
Maybe this chapter is truly closing.
Either way… I’m proud of what I’ve created.
I’m thankful for every single moment this blog gave me.
I honour it. I release it.
And I set myself free.
— siinuruldotcom
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