Bir umr bir odam bilan qolish emas muammo… bir xil qolib ketish muammo.

Bir insonga ko‘ngli berib, u bilan bir umr yashash…no, no, hech qachon. Bu men uchun emas. Men bir xillikni yomon ko‘raman.

Men uchun munosabat — qamoq emas, u growth, u movement, u expansion. Agar ikkimiz bir-birimizga qarab qolib ketadigan bo‘lsak — that’s boring. But if we look in the same direction…that’s powerful.

Qachonki life partneringiz bilan maqsadlaringiz bir xil bo‘lsa, hayot zerikarli bo‘lmaydi. Aksincha…hayot yanada qiziq, yanada spicy, yanada unpredictable bo‘ladi.

I want a partner, not a routine. Kimdir yonimda turib:"Keling, yana o‘saylik, yana boraylik, yana sinab ko‘raylik," deb tursa — mana shu men uchun relationship.

I don’t want forever with someone who stays the same. I want forever with someone who evolves with me.

Bir umr bir odam bilan yashash? Ha, balki. Lekin bir umr o‘sha odamning yangi versiyalari bilan yashash — that’s the real dream.

Private life? Yo‘q, bu boshqa narsa… bu ‘only-for-my-heart’ moments.

O‘ylab qarasam… kuzda xotiralar boshqacha uyg‘onadi. Havo tinch, yurak biroz shovqin, bosh esa o‘tmishni bir-bir varaqlay boshlaydi. Kuzning shunaqa odati bor — u seni o‘zingga qaytaradi.

Lekin yana bir narsa bor, shu boya video qilayotganimda esimga tushib qoldi…meni eng yaqin odamimning men bilan birga tushgan bitta ham videosi yo‘q. Shu paytgacha ham yo‘q. Qanaqasiga ?!

Sometimes I ask myself…bu qizg‘onchlikmi yoki men o‘sha lahzalarni hech kim bilan bo‘lisha olmaydigan darajada qadrli deb bilganimdanmi?

Maybe men shunchaki ayrim odamlarni social media uchun emas, faqat yuragimning ichki, yashirin papkasi uchun saqlayman. Hech kim bilmaydigan, hech kim ko‘rmaydigan, faqat his qilinadigan joyga.

Balki men uni dunyoning nigohlaridan himoya qilgandirman. Balki bizning lahzalar kameraga sig‘maydigan darajada real bo‘lgandir. Unfiltered and unshared.

Chunki ba’zi odamlar…
faqat bizning ichki olamimizga tegishli bo‘ladi. Va ba’zi xotiralar — post uchun emas. They are meant to be kept, not shown.

That’s why…my ‘private life’ is not private at all — it’s just sacred.

Nega hammasi bunchalik chalkash ?

Esizdami, shu gapni yozganim, xoʻsh endi buni unuting. Ha, odamlar “arzisa qilaver” deydi, lekin men kechasi bilan uyqusiz yurgan bir nechta kunlarning oxirida faqat bitta narsani tushundim: hech narsa sog‘ligingdan qadrli emas ekan.

Bugun ertalab o‘zimni ko‘rib cho‘chib ketdim — yuzim charchoqdan mendan alam oldi.
Lanjlik, tana og‘rig‘i, ko‘zlarim achishib og‘irlashgan… kun bo‘yi yo taksida, yo metroda, yo divanda uxlab yurdim. Tanam “bas” dedi.

Shunda tushundim: me’yor — bu shunchaki chiroyli so‘z emas, bu hayotni saqlab turadigan balans.

Shuning uchun men o‘zimga bugun shuni aytdim: "Ish kutadi. Rejalar kutadi. Lekin men o‘zimni kutdirmayman. Uyga borib uxlayman".

Hech bir g‘oya, hech bir loyiha, hech bir topshiriq — sening sog‘ligingdan muhim emas.

(Ertaga toʻy, yaxshilab dam olish shart)

Yaxshi gap — shunchaki yaxshi gap!

Why do I always run?
Probably because I can smell nonsense from miles away.
I choose silence. Because silence never runs to friends saying, “She likes me, did you see that?”
I am loyal to the person I haven’t met yet. The one who doesn’t exist in real life. Yes. A man that exists only in theory,
but somehow has better manners than half the population.
I notice immediately when someone tries to get close. Hunger in their eyes. Rush in their hearts. And in their minds…well, nothing much.
These days, one kind sentence is enough — boom. A whole love story is already written.
“She spoke nicely to me.”
Eww..that’s not love, idiot.
That’s basic human decency. Learn the difference.
Love is a matter of the heart.
Respect is a matter of upbringing. And apparently, upbringing is out of stock these days.
I never want anyone to get attached to me. Especially not because I was polite. Politeness isn't a proposal, idiot. It’s just… being human!
I hate when people get used to my kindness. Because I’m not consistent. I’m not a mood —
I’m an entire weather system.
I hate sameness. Routine kills mystery. And mystery is the only thing keeping me interesting.
I have only one person.
My one safe place in the chaos. My boy bestie. He understands my silence and my sharp edges. He doesn’t demand love from me. He doesn’t confuse closeness with ownership. Rare species. Endangered, probably.

That’s why I run.
Not because I’m cold.
But because I’m selective.
And if someone doesn’t understand that — well… that’s a them problem.

Chaos is quiet when you learn to smile.

Ba’zan men o‘zimga haddan ortiq obsessed bo‘lib ketaman. Not in a narcissistic way — more like someone staring too long into a mirror and realizing the reflection is staring back.
Men bir xil inson emasman. I change faster than the weather, undan ham tezroq —
like skies that can’t decide whether to burn or rain.
Ichimda chaos yashaydi. Unspoken storms. Broken constellations of thoughts colliding at 3 a.m. And tashqarida — sokin tabassum. Soft. Polite. Almost convincing.
These two never agree. Ichimdagi shovqin va tashqi jimlik doim qarama-qarshi yo‘nalishda yuradi. Like two strangers sharing the same body, pretending not to notice each other. Ba’zan men jimman, not because I have nothing to say, but because words feel too small for what my heart is carrying.
Men o‘zimni tushunishga harakat qilaman. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I just sit with the confusion and let it breathe.
Mening ichimda romantika bor,
lekin u shovqinli emas. It’s quiet, dangerous, like a candle burning in a dark room —
beautiful, but capable of burning everything if touched the wrong way.
Men o‘zimdan qochmayman. I circle around myself, again and again, trying to understand why I feel too much and show too little.
And maybe that’s who I am. A calm smile guarding a restless soul. A soft voice hiding sharp truths. A mystery I’m still learning to live with. Sometimes I read myself back and think — hmm…maybe chaos isn’t my flaw. Maybe it’s my depth.

You don’t fail.
You disappear before the beginning.

Avval boshlang. Keyin o‘rganing. Order matters — but you flipped it in your head. Siz nimani boshlamoqchi bo‘lsangiz ham — til bo‘ladimi, ustozlikmi, dream projectmi — avval ichingizda uni yo‘q qilasiz:
“I can’t.”
“I’m not ready.”
“It’s not for me.”
Hali birinchi qadamni tashlamasdan turib, o‘zingizga hukm chiqarib bo‘lgansiz.
Bu qiziq. You haven’t failed — you just imagined the failure too well. Miya trailer ko‘rsatadi: uyat, yiqilish, boshqalar kulishi. Yurak esa sukutda turadi, chunki u hali ish boshlanmaganini biladi. Siz sabablar yig‘asiz. Very aesthetic excuses. Very logical fears. Ammo haqiqat shunaqa: siz qo‘rqmaysiz boshlashdan, siz qo‘rqasiz — kim bo‘lib qolishingizdan. Chunki agar boshlasangiz, end excuse. End comfort. End old version.
Va bu yerda choice bor: yo soyada qolish, yo titrab turgan yurak bilan oldinga yurish. Boshlash — bu mukammallik emas.Boshlash — bu shunchaki ha deyish. Bir marta. Past ovozda. O‘zingizga...
Avval qadam.
Keyin bilim.
Keyin kuch.
Keyin — siz o‘ylagandan ham boshqa odam.
And one day you’ll realize: siz qila olmasligingizni isbotlash uchun emas, o‘zingizni tanish uchun boshlagansiz...

Distance didn’t change my feelings.
It just proved they were real.

Men bir insonni anchadan beri yaxshi ko‘raman. Oddiy “yoqadi” emas — har safar unga qaraganimda, go‘yo yuragim reload bo‘ladi. Again. And again.
U mening idealim. Perfect emas — haqiqiy. Uni uchratganimga deyarli 6 yil bo‘ldi. Oshiq boʻlganimga esa 3 yil. Time passed, seasons changed, people came and left — but his place stayed untouched.
Bugun uni yana ko‘rdim. And just like that — I fell again. No drama. No resistance. Just that quiet moment when the heart says: “Yep. Still you.”
U hozir uzoqda. Physically. Lekin u menga yaqin bo‘lishni o‘rgatgan. Sukut bilan. Masofa bilan. Presence without possession.
U menga ko‘p narsani o‘rgatdi. Bilmasdan. O‘zi sezmasdan. Qanday kuchli bo‘lishni, qanday sabr qilishni, qanday kimnidir yuragingda olib yurib ham o‘zingni yo‘qotmaslikni.
U yolg‘iz emas. U bilan birga hayotimda yana 6 inson bor. Men ularning barchasini yaxshi ko‘raman. Each one shaped me. Each one left a mark.
Lekin ularning ichida ikki nafari bor — ularga bo‘lgan mehrim boshqacha. Quiet. Deep. Untouchable.
Nima bo‘lsa ham, qayerda bo‘lishmasin..I wish them health, peace, and light.
Men esa…men yo‘ldaman. I’m coming. Oz qoldi...

Men ba'zan uni sogʻinaman...

Hammasi yaxshi ketayotgan bir paytda bir narsa boʻladi va hammasi tamom. Men odamlarni yomon koʻraman, ammo oʻz insonlarimni emas. Men bir xil emasman, va hech qachon bunday boʻlmayman. Odamlar meni oʻldirishdi, va hali ham shu missiyalarini to'laqonli bitkazish uchun davom etishyapti.
Men ham insonman, ha, menda ham yurak bor, charchaydigan body bor. Hammasini zoʻr boʻlishini xohlaysiz, qaysi ishda boʻlishidan qatʼiy nazar, ammo oxirida sen yana yolgʻiz qolasan.
Odamlar senga ahamiyat ham bermaydi. Sen esa doim ularga yordam bergansan. Balki, oʻzingni oʻylash vaqti kelmadimikan-a ? Yetarlicha ularga vaqtingni, mehringni va borligingni bagʻishlading. Yetar endi. Ro'llar almashdim endi. Bu dunyoda hamma bir-biridan foydalanadi.
Pul va mansab insonni asl kimligini koʻrsatadi. Hammasidan kechib ketging keladi, ammo imkoniyat yoʻq. Balki, men bahona qilayotgandirman, axir oʻzim aytardimku, oʻlimdan boshqa hamma narsani iloji bor deb. Nega endi jimib qoldim shu yerida ? Balki oʻzimni sabablarim borligi uchundir.
Oʻzing uchun harakat qil. Ular seni toʻliq yoʻq qilishiga yoʻl qoʻyma, oʻzingni tikla. Senda yetarlicha kuch bor va shundan foydalan. Avvalgi oʻzingni sogʻinishni bas qil, toʻgʻri, u baxtli edi toki shu yergacha kelmaguncha, oʻsha baxtni yana qaytar. Ular soʻrib olayotgan baxtni yana oʻzingga qaytarib ol.
Davom et, oz qoldi...

Ba’zan hamma narsa yo‘qolib ketgandek tuyuladi. Ammo aynan o‘sha paytda hayot kim ekaningni eslatadi.

Ba’zan sizda ham shunday bo‘ladimi — hamma narsa yo‘qolib ketayotgandek tuyuladi. Iching bo‘m-bo‘sh, hech narsaga qiziqishing qolmaydi. Umid ham sekin o‘chayotgandek…
Lekin aynan o‘sha paytda, kutilmaganda, mitti narsalar keladi. Juda oddiy, juda kichik. Ammo ular yuzingga yana tabassum qaytaradi. Va sen tushunasan: ularning beradigan quvonchi o‘ylaganimizdan ham katta ekan.
Buni ba’zilar “bolalarcha” deydi. Lekin odamlarning gaplari kimga qiziq, to‘g‘rimi? Axir bu baxt ularga emas, menga keladi-ku. Agar biz har kim nima dedi, deb yashaganimizda, balki bu hayotda umuman bo‘lmasdik ham.
Biz hayotga bir marta kelamiz. Me’yor borligini bilamiz, albatta. Lekin bu hayotda odamlar nima deydi, deb o‘z orzularimdan voz kechish niyatim yo‘q.
Meni “qiz bola” deb, har qadamimga taqiq qo‘yish — bu mantiqsizlik.
Qiz bola grant yutsa bo‘ladi, lekin o‘qimasligi kerak emish.
Qiz bola ko‘p til o‘rgansa mayli, lekin ko‘p gapirmasin emish.
Qiz bola o‘qigan bo‘lishi kerak, lekin doim jim tursin emish.
Qiz bola umuman gapirmasin, faqat “kerakli joyda” tilga kirsin emish.
Bu nimasi o‘zi?!
O‘g‘il bolada qanday maqsad bo‘lsa, qiz bolada ham shunday orzu, niyat, yo‘l bor.
Va men o‘sha yo‘ldan yurishdan hech qachon uyalmayman. Hali ham davom etaman

I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving them.
I walked away because I finally chose myself.

Barini yangidan boshlash — or the same dream, but sharper, braver, more honest. I chose the second. Because 2025 didn’t come to pet me — it came to teach me. 2025 was not gentle. It was a lesson year. A year where I walked roads with people close to my heart, yet those roads were so far apart that even if we met, we wouldn’t recognize each other anymore. Especially the last months…they were heavy.
The kind of heavy that sits on your chest at night and asks quiet, dangerous questions.
But even in those days — there were people who held me up without knowing they were saving me.
Teaching…people think it’s just a job. But it’s not. Teaching is running away from darkness without realizing it, and suddenly finding yourself surrounded by small, warm souls — and giving them everything you’ve learned, everything you are. I don’t just miss HBK learning center. I miss the people. I miss the teachers, yes — but more than that, I miss the little family I built without meaning to. Everyone I taught became a part of me. A small family. My family. And the last months with them…they were beautiful. I say this honestly. Their laughter. Their growth. Their last words to me — yes, I cried reading them. I didn’t hide it. Those tears were real.
Today, I made a decision that is right for me. And on one side, I feel light — Alhamdulillah. Like a breath I’ve been holding too long finally escaped. But on the other side…I miss them. So much. In a way that doesn’t make noise, but hurts deeply.

In the end, I chose myself. And yes — it hurt. It still does. But my heart is calm. Sometimes choosing yourself means walking away from people you love without loving them any less. Whatever happens — may it be for the best.

Men hozir videodars yozib oʻtirganimda hayolimdan shu fikr oʻtyapti:

Nega hozirgi odamlar bunchalik darajada dangasa bo‘lib qolishdi?
Like… seriously, why?
Hozir ustozlar hamma narsani tayyorlab beradi. Qayerda o‘qish kerak — ko‘rsatadi. Qanday qilish kerak — tushuntiradi. Vazifa qaysi kitobning qaysi betida — highlight qilib beradi. Ba’zida faqat bitta narsa qoladi: o‘quvchi nafas olsin xolos.

Shunga qaramay, yana savol:
“Ustoz, qaysi bet edi?”
“Ustoz, nimani qilish kerak?”
“Ustoz, bu qiyin emasmi?”

Ochiq qilib aytaman: chaynab berilgan narsani ham yutolmayapmiz. And that’s impressive — in the worst way.
Muammo bilimda emas. Muammo resursda ham emas. Hamma narsa bor: internet, video, izoh, reminder.
Yetishmayotgani bitta — harakat. Hozir ko‘pchilik natijani xohlaydi, lekin jarayonga allergiyasi bor.

O‘rganishni emas, tayyor javobni sevadi. Mehnatni emas, certificate’ni. Eng qizig‘i — hamma “motivatsiya yo‘q” deydi. Lekin motivatsiya yo‘q emas, intizom yo‘q. And discipline doesn’t feel aesthetic, so no one wants it.
Oldin odamlar qidirardi. Hozir esa “link tashlab yuboring” deydi. Oldin o‘ylashardi. Hozir “short qilib ayting” deyishadi. Miya esa sekin-asta power-saving mode’ga o‘tyapti.
Bu ustozning aybi emas. Bu tizimning hammasi emas. Bu — qulaylikka haddan ortiq o‘rganib qolgan ongning natijasi. Chunki haqiqat shunaqa: hayot hech kimga chaynab bermaydi. Imtihon ham. Real world ham.

Va oxir-oqibat,
yutishni bilmagan odam
och qoladi.

Love?
No thanks — I’m choosing peace and uninterrupted sleep.

Sevgi o‘zi nima?
Honestly… what even is love? Menga sevgi kerak emas. Like — no, thank you. Men buyurtma bermaganman. Return policy bormi o‘zi?
Sevgi deyishadi…uyquni buzadi, ishtahani o‘ldiradi, miyani drama-rejimga qo‘yadi. And for what? Bir “seen” bilan yurakni ezish uchunmi?
Love comes like: “I’ll heal you.”
Keyin esa: emotionally unavailable bo‘lib chiqadi. Classic. Menga tinchlik kerak. Peace. Routine. Sleep without overthinking. Men sevgi emas, barqaror Wi-Fi xohlayman.
Sevgi bo‘lsa ham — low volume, please. No shouting. No mind games. No “let’s talk” at 1 a.m. Agar sevgi bo‘lsa, let it be healthy. If not — I’m good. Men o‘zim bilan dating qilyapman hozir. Exclusive. Sevgi? Cute concept. Risky investment. Right now — not in my budget.

when I'm trying to go to sleep but then I think and I think and I think...

If your “self-love” doesn’t hurt a little — you’re just lying to yourself.

O‘zini sevish o‘zi nima ? Let’s not romanticize it.
Bu qimmat kremmi? Skincare qilib, “healing era” deb post tashlashmi? Yangi kiyimlar, mirror pic, “I deserve this” degan captions?
Relax.
Bu o‘zini sevish emas — bu distraction.
O‘zini sevish — yoqimli emas.
It doesn’t look cute. It looks like telling yourself things you don’t want to hear.
Bu — o‘zingni uyg‘otish. Bahona qilayotganingda ham. Yotib qolmoqchi bo‘lganingda ham.
“Charchadim” degan gapni har safar karta sifatida ishlatmaslik.
O‘zini sevish — hammani tushunib, o‘zingni ham unutmaslik. Hammani xursand qilib, o‘zingni yo‘qotmaslik. It’s unfollowing people who make you feel small. It’s not replying just because you’re bored.
It’s choosing silence over pointless conversations.
O‘zini sevish — arzon dopamin'lardan chiqish. Late nights, empty talks, fake validation.
Hammasi o‘sha — vaqtni o‘g‘irlaydigan narsalar.
Bu — intizom. Zero aesthetic. Zero applause. Faqat natija. Va eng achinarlisi — ko‘pchilik o‘zini sevaman deydi,
lekin o‘ziga bu uchun ishonch bermaydi.
So, no. Self-love is not soft. It’s strict. Sometimes lonely. Often uncomfortable. Agar o‘zini sevish senga ogʻriq bermayotgan boʻlsa, demak, sen uni noto‘g‘ri qilayapsan.

Bitta savol meni anchadan beri qiynaydi: odamlar o‘zining asl sohasi aynan shu ekanligini qayerdan bilishadi o‘zi?
Like… qaysi momentda “ha, mana bu MEN” deb qaror qilishadi?
Menga aytishlari mumkin:
“Sen koreys tilidan ustozsan-ku”, “polyglotsan-ku”, “shu sening yo‘ling”.
Shoshmang. Really, don’t rush.
Bu — mening asosiy soham emas.
Bu — qilgan ishlarimdan biri, xolos.
Men faqat ustoz bo‘lmaganman. Men o‘quv markaz menejeri, o'rganuvchi, admin, tikuvchi, qandolatchi, mentor, radioboshlovchi, yozuvchi boʻlganman. Va yo‘q, bu “wow, qanchadan-qancha soha” degani emas.
Bu shunchaki… hobbylar.
Chunki soha — bu boshqa narsa.
Pul olib kelayotgani — bu soha degani emas.
Hobby orqali pul topsam ham, bu uni avtomatik ravishda “my calling” qilib qo‘ymaydi.
People love saying:
“Pul kelyaptimi? Bas, shu sening sohang.”
No.That’s not how it works. Men bir xillikni yoqtirmayman. Routine meni bo‘g‘adi. Shu sababli hobbylarim ko‘p. Shu sababli men tez zerikaman. Especially ish va odamlardan.
Bugun qiziq. Ertaga — yo‘q.
And that scares people.
Chunki jamiyatga bitta yo‘l qulayroq: bitta kasb, bitta titul, bitta stiker.
Lekin men shundayman:
ko‘p qirraliman,
tez yonaman,
tez soviyman, va bular — kamchilik emas.
Balki mening soham — bitta nomga sig‘maydigan narsadir.
Balki men hali topmaganman.
Balki topishim shart ham emasdir.
Maybe my real thing isn’t a job, but the way I think, the way I connect dots, the way I feel too much and get bored too fast.
Va balki eng katta haqiqat shuki: hamma ham “asl soha” bilan tug‘ilmaydi.
Ba’zilar uni izlab yashaydi.
Ba’zilar esa… uni o‘zi yaratadi.
And honestly?
I think I’m the second type.

"Bir kishi aytadi:
Bir marta bir insonni xafa qildim va u tinchlanishi uchun biroz muddatga uni tark etdim. Keyin qaytganimda, u mendan gina ohangida so'radi: 'Meni shuncha vaqt arazda qoldirib ketish senga shunchalik oson bo'ldimi?'

Men unga: 'Senga tinchlanishing uchun imkon berdim, keyin gaplashib tushunib olamiz deb o'yladim', dedim.

U menga shunday javob berdiki, buni aslo unutmayman: 'Agar uy yonayotgan boʻlsa va sen uni asrab qolmoqchi bo'lsang, olov yonib turgan paytda uni o'chirishing kerak. Chunki olov o'z-o'zidan o'chishini kutsang, u oʻchganida uyda hech narsa qolmagan, hammasi yonib bo'lgan boʻladi'.

Shunday narsalar borki, masofa ularni sovitadi.

O'z yaqinlaringizni 'tinchlanib olsin' degan maqsadda arazda yolg'iz qoldirib ketmang. Bilingki, ular qaytib kelishsa ham, hech qachon avvalgidek boʻlmaydilar. Chunki ba'zan insonning ichida bir narsa sinadi...suv yana o'z oʻzaniga qaytishi mumkin, lekin u suv endi ichishga yaroqli boʻlmaydi."

You know what I realized?
Problem menda kuch yo‘qligida emas ekan.
Problem — I’m not showing up fully as myself.
Menga bir savol berishdi:
“If no one was in front of you — no one judging, no one criticizing, no one leaving — would you live differently?”
And I said, “Yes.”
Shu “yes” hammasini ochib berdi.
Demak men hali ham external validation bilan yashayapman.
Kim nima deydi?
What if they don’t like me?
What if they leave?
What if I look too much?
Shu qo‘rquvlar meni 100% emas, maybe 60–70% qilib qo‘ygan.
Truth?
I can speak stronger.
I can set higher standards.
I can take bigger risks.
Ba’zi joylarda “no” deyishim kerak.
Ba’zi joylarda walk away qilishim kerak.
Lekin men safe versionni tanlayman.
Because I’m scared of losing people.
But the best version of me?
U yangi odam emas.
It’s just me — without fear of being judged.
Eng zo‘r versiya qo‘shish bilan chiqmaydi. It comes from removing something.
Removing the need to be liked.
Removing the fear of being misunderstood.
Removing the habit of shrinking myself.
The strongest version of me
doesn’t fear people leaving.
doesn’t fear being “too much.”
doesn’t dim the light to make others comfortable.
Menga yana motivatsiya kerak emas.
I need courage.
Courage to be 10% more myself tomorrow.

And real growth?

Shu yerda boshlanadi.

Sometimes I feel like I want to talk about everything.
About the things I know.
About the things I’m learning.
I want to share them. I want to teach, but I don’t always know where to start.

It all feels messy. Tangled.
Like my thoughts are running faster than I can hold them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I truly want. It feels like life is passing me by…
Like I’m fading out of it.
And then something shifts.
Something comes back to me.
That spark.
That clarity.
That version of me.
But after a while…it leaves again.
And I’m left alone.

Just me.
And then…
just me again.