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Posts by Ria Roy:

The Art of Messy Journaling: Why Imperfection Tells the Best Stories

The Art of Messy Journaling: Why Imperfection Tells the Best Stories

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Let’s be real. If my journal could talk, it would probably sigh dramatically and say, “Oh, you again?” Because every time I open it, I’m either pouring out an existential crisis, ranting about something that happened three years ago, or leaving behind an accidental coffee stain that could probably be analyzed like a Rorschach test.

And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Journaling isn’t about flawless pages, perfect penmanship, or color-coordinated spreads (unless that’s your thing, in which case, I deeply respect your discipline). It’s about you—the real, unfiltered, coffee-spilling, ink-smudging, emotionally complex you.

So if you’ve ever hesitated to start because you think your journal should look like an aesthetic Pinterest post, let’s rip that idea to shreds. Literally—grab a page, crumple it up, and throw it in the air like confetti. Because messy journaling? That’s where the magic happens.

Messy Journaling is the Best Kind of Journaling—Here’s Why

1. It Captures Life As It Is—Not As It “Should” Be

Life isn’t neat. It doesn’t come in a perfectly bound planner with pre-dotted pages and matching highlighters. It’s a beautiful mess of emotions, memories, and late-night thoughts scribbled in half-legible handwriting.

The smudged ink? That was the night you wrote through your tears. The crumpled page? The moment you almost gave up but didn’t. The random napkin taped into your journal? Proof that inspiration hits anywhere, even at a coffee shop when you forgot your notebook.

Messy journaling isn’t about chaos—it’s about truth.

2. Perfection is Overrated (and Honestly, Kind of Boring)

Let’s be honest: trying to make every page of your journal look “perfect” is exhausting. And sometimes, that need for perfection stops you from writing at all.

But when you stop caring about how it looks and focus on how it feels, everything changes. Suddenly, you’re not journaling for aesthetics—you’re journaling for you.

So go ahead, write in different colors. Scribble over old entries. Spill your tea (literally and metaphorically). Let your journal be an evolving masterpiece, not a pressure-filled project.

3. Your Journal is a Judgment-Free Zone (Unlike Your Overthinking Brain)

You ever write something down and then immediately judge yourself for it? Yeah, same. But here’s the thing—your journal is the one place where you can be unapologetically yourself.

There’s no audience. No like button. No need for your words to be profound or poetic. Just you, your thoughts, and a page that’s willing to hold them all without question.

How to Embrace the Chaos in Your Journal

🖋️ Write First, Edit Never – Your journal is not an essay. It doesn’t need a rough draft, final draft, or MLA citations. Just write. No second-guessing. No erasing.

☕ Let the Coffee Stains Stay – Or the tea stains. Or the ink smudges. These little marks tell stories of their own. (Like that time you knocked over your drink mid-existential crisis. Iconic.)

📖 Use Whatever’s Around You – A concert ticket, a torn magazine page, a quote scribbled on a sticky note—glue them in. Your journal should feel alive, not just written.

🔥 Rant, Ramble, Reflect – Some pages will be deep, some will be chaotic, and some will just be grocery lists written at 2 AM. That’s the beauty of it.

The Beauty of the Unfinished, the Imperfect, the Real

The best journals aren’t pristine—they’re lived in. They hold stories in ink smudges, emotions in messy handwriting, and memories in crumpled pages.

So if you’ve been waiting for the “perfect” time to start journaling, stop waiting. Just open the page and write. Let it be messy, let it be raw, let it be you.

And if you spill coffee on it? Even better.

Your Turn!

💬 Tell me—what’s the messiest yet most meaningful page in your journal? Let’s celebrate the beauty of imperfection in the comments!

📌 Save this post if you needed a reminder that your journal doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be yours.

From my scribbles to yours, Ria.

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Healing Isn’t Linear: 5 Things I Wish I Knew Sooner

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Let’s talk about healing. It’s one of those things we often think will be neat, tidy, and straightforward. You start, you heal, and then bam! You’re healed. Right?

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work like that.

Healing is one of the messiest, most unpredictable journeys you’ll ever embark on. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably been frustrated, disappointed, or even heartbroken by how slowly things seem to move. But let me let you in on a little secret: healing isn’t linear. It’s more like a zigzagging road trip with unexpected detours and scenic views along the way.

So, here are five things I really, truly wish I knew sooner. These are the lessons that would’ve made the whole process way less overwhelming, and hopefully, they’ll help you navigate your healing journey with a bit more grace.

1. Setbacks Are Part of the Deal

When I first started trying to heal, I thought I’d reach a point where I’d just be better. No hiccups, no bumps. But I quickly learned that setbacks are part of the process. One minute you’re feeling good, the next, it feels like you’re stuck in the same place. That’s normal. In fact, it’s often a sign that you’re doing something right. Healing is messy, and progress isn’t always visible.

Tip: The next time you feel like you’re backtracking, give yourself permission to feel it. Setbacks don’t mean you’re failing; they mean you’re moving. Slowly, maybe, but you’re still moving.

2. You Don’t Have to Have It All Figured Out

Here’s the thing: I thought that healing meant I’d eventually have all the answers. I’d be enlightened. I’d be… perfect. (Insert laugh here.) Spoiler alert: Not a thing. Healing is messy, and it doesn’t follow any set path. You don’t need to have it all figured out. In fact, trying to have everything mapped out just adds more pressure to an already intense journey. You’re not supposed to have all the answers. You’re supposed to live the questions.

Tip: Take it day by day. Set small intentions, not giant goals. Today, try journaling your thoughts for 10 minutes. Tomorrow, maybe you just breathe deeply for a few minutes. It’s all progress.

3. Patience Is Your Best Friend (Even When You’re Sick of It)

You know what they don’t tell you about healing? It takes way longer than you want it to. Seriously. Whether you’re healing from heartbreak, trauma, or just life, you’re going to feel like you’re stuck in the waiting room forever. The truth? Healing takes time. It’s all about baby steps, little victories, and allowing things to unfold when they’re ready.

Tip: Instead of focusing on the end goal, celebrate the smallest wins. Maybe you cried it out but didn’t spiral. Maybe you were gentle with yourself instead of being harsh. Progress can be tiny, but it still counts.

4. You’re Allowed to Have Bad Days

Healing isn’t about feeling better all the time. In fact, some days you might feel worse, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re back to square one. Some days you’ll feel tired, irritable, or just plain overwhelmed. And that’s normal. You don’t have to be happy every single day to be healing. It’s okay to sit with discomfort and not try to fix it right away.

Tip: Allow yourself to feel the tough stuff. On days when everything feels heavy, give yourself permission to be a little sad, a little angry, or a little tired. Healing isn’t about being “better,” it’s about embracing the full range of your emotions.

5. Self-Care Isn’t Just Bubble Baths

I used to think self-care was all about face masks and indulgent baths. And hey, that’s part of it. But real self-care is so much deeper. It’s about setting boundaries, learning to say no, and prioritizing your mental and emotional health. It’s the quiet, everyday acts of kindness that you show yourself when things are tough. If there’s one thing I wish I knew earlier, it’s this: self-care isn’t a luxury. It’s essential.

Tip: Start making self-care a daily priority. It can be as simple as drinking enough water, getting some fresh air, or cutting out negative people. Small changes create big impact.

 

Healing Is About Progress, Not Perfection

So, here’s the real takeaway: healing is never going to be perfect. It’s going to have its ups and downs, twists and turns, and moments where you question if you’re making any progress at all. But I promise you, you are. Progress is still progress, even if it’s not visible right away. Healing is messy, but it’s also incredibly beautiful.

So take a deep breath, cut yourself some slack, and remember that healing is a journey, one you’re allowed to take at your own pace. You’ve got this. And most importantly? You’re not alone.

Healing with you, Ria.

What’s something you wish you knew about healing earlier? Drop a comment and let’s talk about it. Also, if this post spoke to you, make sure to subscribe to Sips and Scars for more heartfelt stories and healing insights.

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The Uninvited Tattoo Artist Who Works for Free (And Still Somehow Overcharges)

The Uninvited Tattoo Artist Who Works for Free (And Still Somehow Overcharges)

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Art is subjective, but an itchy red masterpiece on your skin? That’s objectively a mosquito’s finest work.

Ah, mosquitoes. The unsung geniuses of the art world. The Picassos of pain, the Da Vincis of disruption, the Van Goghs of—well, making sure you lose an ear to incessant buzzing. These tiny tormentors have been perfecting their craft for centuries, yet they receive nothing but slaps and curses in return. Tragic, really.

A Master of Performance Art

Mosquitoes are the original immersive artists. While other creatives stick to lifeless canvases, mosquitoes interact with their audience. They don’t just make their presence known—they demand a response. Their medium? The haunting hum in your ear at precisely 2:37 a.m., the rhythmic percussion of your own hand smacking your skin in futility, and the slow, dawning horror of an itch that will outlast your will to live.

They don’t just create art. They are the art.

Abstract Expressionism at Its Itchiest

A mosquito’s true masterpiece isn’t the bite—it’s the welt. Every red, inflamed bump is an organic brushstroke, a unique, fleeting composition on the canvas of your skin. You? You’re just the gallery. Each piece varies in size, texture, and intensity, a testament to their skill and dedication. Ever wake up looking like a modern art exhibit? Congratulations, you’ve been curated.

Jackson Pollock could never.

A Commitment to the Bit(e)

Lesser artists give up when faced with adversity, but mosquitoes? Mosquitoes persevere. Slap them mid-bite, and they’ll die for their art—literally. But their sacrifice isn’t in vain. Their work lives on, a posthumous masterpiece throbbing on your ankle. Some might call this dedication insufferable. Others might call it performance art in its rawest form.

Tomato, tomahto.

Global Impact – The Art That Unites Us

Some art is exclusive, meant for those who “understand” it. Mosquitoes? They make sure everyone participates. It doesn’t matter where you live or how much repellent you douse yourself in. These tiny artists transcend borders, social classes, and levels of personal hygiene. They’re equal opportunity menaces.

And really, isn’t that the dream? To create something that touches everyone? (Preferably not with disease, but hey, all great artists have their controversies.)

Final Thoughts: Give Credit Where It’s Due

Perhaps it’s time to rethink our stance on mosquitoes. Instead of resenting them, maybe we should acknowledge their artistry, their persistence, their sheer audacity. Maybe, just maybe, the real problem isn’t them—it’s us.

…Nah.

Where’s the mosquito bat?

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When Love Is There but the Math Ain’t Mathing

When Love Is There but the Math Ain’t Mathing

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Alright, I’ve got my big sister glasses on—hope you’re taking notes

Love and compatibility — two words that seem to go hand in hand, like peanut butter and jelly, or, more accurately, like coffee and creamer. But what if love is more like a shot of espresso, bold and overpowering, while compatibility is oat milk—smooth, necessary, and the only thing keeping that espresso from punching you in the face at 8 a.m.?

I used to believe love was enough. That feeling—that heart-thumping, mind-spinning, butterflies-in-the-stomach chaos—was supposed to be the glue that held two people together. But then I learned that love, on its own, can be as flimsy as a dollar store phone charger. It burns bright, it sparks, it even charges your phone for a while—but it’s not built to last.

The Myth of Love as the End-All-Be-All

We grow up consuming love stories where two people defy all odds just to be together. Romeo and Juliet? Please. They weren’t even compatible long enough to figure out each other’s last names before things went south. Love, in those stories, is the main character, while compatibility is the boring sidekick no one pays attention to—until it’s too late.

The truth is, love without compatibility is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without an instruction manual. It’s all passion and excitement at first, but eventually, you’re left with frustration, missing screws, and the sinking realization that you should have checked if you had the right tools before you started.

So, What Is Compatibility?

Compatibility isn’t just about liking the same TV shows or agreeing on whether pineapple belongs on pizza (it does, by the way). It’s about:

  • Emotional Compatibility – Do you communicate in the same language? Not just “I love you” and “Good morning,” but the hard stuff—how you argue, express hurt, and navigate silence.
  • Lifestyle Compatibility – Are your routines, ambitions, and life goals at least in the same timezone? Love can bridge gaps, but if one of you dreams of backpacking across the world while the other wants a white-picket-fence life, you’re going to hit turbulence.
  • Value Compatibility – This one’s big. Do you share core values about things like family, career, faith, or even how you define success and happiness? Love doesn’t erase fundamental differences—it just hides them for a while.

Love Versus Compatibility: Who Wins?

Let’s say you meet someone who makes your heart race. The chemistry is off the charts, you finish each other’s sentences, and your playlist is weirdly identical. But then reality kicks in: Your communication styles clash. You argue in ways that leave you drained rather than understood. One of you needs constant reassurance, while the other needs space.

What happens then?

Sometimes, love tricks us into thinking we can override incompatibility with sheer willpower. But love isn’t a magic wand that makes differences disappear. Over time, those differences start to feel heavier, like carrying a backpack that gets just a little bit heavier every day—until one day, you can’t carry it at all.

Can Love and Compatibility Coexist?

Absolutely. In fact, the best relationships have both. Love is the fire, but compatibility is the foundation. Without that foundation, the fire either burns out or burns the whole house down.

This doesn’t mean you need a checklist where your partner ticks every compatibility box. But it does mean you should pay attention to the things that make love work long-term. The little things. The daily things. The “who’s going to kill the spider in the bathroom?” things. Because love might make you swoon, but compatibility makes you stay.

So, is love compatible? Not always. But when it is?  That’s the kind of love that doesn’t just survive—it thrives.

Alright, your turn—do you think love and compatibility go hand in hand, or is love just out here freeloading? Spill your thoughts in the comments.

Big Sister Wisdom, handle with care – Ria

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In Through Curtained Windows And Open Balconies

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Through every open curtain, a quiet reminder that we are never truly alone ✨

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this little habit—whenever I’m walking past an apartment or house with its windows glowing at night, I look inside. Not in a creepy way, but in a curious way. If the door is left ajar for ventilation (AKA an open invitation for mosquitoes), or if a balcony is spilling warm light into the night, my eyes wander.

There had to be lights on. First, because this hobby, which started when I was a tiny kid, was strictly reserved for after-dinner walks with my family. And second, because my height was inconvenient—tall for a kindergartener, but still too short to see much in the dark. (Also, I was busy stuffing stones into my mouth and pockets, which… let’s not talk about.)

My mother would nudge me away, claiming I was staring rudely, while also prying open my mouth to confiscate my latest rock collection. Guess which habit stuck. If you said both, congratulations—you might have pica too. (Kidding. Kind of.) But mostly, it’s looking into homes that stayed with me.

There’s something strangely beautiful about these fleeting glimpses into people’s lives—their only unconscious invitation to the outside world. A swaying curtain. A netted window. Clothes drying on a balcony (yes, actual air-dried clothes—shockingly, dryers aren’t mandatory). A door cracked open just enough to keep an eye on the dog.

I know what you’re thinking. Your doors are locked. Your curtains are drawn. You’re suddenly questioning every window in your house. Relax. I swear I’m not a creep.

It’s just… comforting. For a few seconds, I get to step into another world—uninvited, yes, but harmlessly.

A bedroom light glowing at 5 AM—my mom’s theory? Someone’s studying, and I should have done that too. A front door left open just long enough to grab the rangoli box left outside after watering the yard. The chaotic sounds of a kitchen—mothers frantically searching for that one missing lid while also yelling at their kids to grab their school lunch. (The irony of multitasking is undefeated.) A grinder whirring, leaving me wondering what they’re cooking for lunch—only to realize I haven’t even had breakfast yet.

Freshly hung laundry in the late afternoons, making me wonder how many loads they still have left. A slow-moving curtain in a dim room confirms someone is deep in the best afternoon nap of their life.

But my favorite windows? The ones at night. When everyone is home.
When the day has settled.

Families at dinner tables, catching up on their day. Kids finishing up homework. Moms cleaning the kitchen after their own 9-to-5 grind. (Honestly, a full-time job that deserves actual pay and benefits.)
One by one, the lights go out—some early, some late—as cozy people tuck themselves into bed… while I wander around my apartment complex, collecting these quiet, unspoken stories.

And sometimes, I wonder—does anyone ever look into my home? I hope they do. I hope, even for a second, it gives them the same quiet comfort it gives me.

Maybe they wonder why the bedroom light is on at 2 AM. Or why the kitchen drawers slam at 3 AM (I promise I try to close them softly; my family has given up). Or why the living room light flickers on at 5 AM—just before I step out, ready to get lost in the glow of other people’s windows again.

Maybe it’s curiosity. (I am a Scorpio, after all.) Or, in this vast and endless world, it just makes me feel less alone.

Maybe, just maybe, we’re all looking for the same thing—proof that life is still happening, one glowing window at a time.

Under the same moon, Ria.

 

 

 

Ever found comfort in a stranger’s window glow? (Or at least confirm I’m not the only one doing this.) Drop your stories below—I promise no one will judge. 💛

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Marked & Memoired: An Ode to the Stories We Wear

Marked & Memoired: An Ode to the Stories We Wear

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If you’ve lived long enough to trip over your own shoelaces, send an embarrassing text to the wrong person, or make a life choice that still haunts you at 2 a.m.—congrats, you’ve got stories. And welcome, because Marked & Memoired is exactly where they belong.

This isn’t about wallowing in the past. It’s about collecting the moments that left marks—some deep, some faint, some so ridiculous you can’t believe they actually happened—and turning them into something worth remembering. Because, let’s be real, half the time we don’t even realize a moment is significant until years later, when it shows up in a nostalgic spiral or as the punchline of a story we tell too often.

Maybe it’s a lesson learned the hard way—one of those moments where you swore you’d never make the same mistake again (and yet, here we are). Maybe it’s a memory that resurfaces out of nowhere, tied to a song, a scent, or the way the sunlight hits a certain street corner, transporting you back to a version of yourself you forgot existed. Or maybe it’s just a wildly chaotic experience that deserves to be immortalized in writing, because some things are too good (or too disastrous) to be lost to time.

Life doesn’t come with a warning label, (I wish it did)  and sometimes we only understand what we’ve been through when we look back and piece it together. The moments that left scars—whether literal or metaphorical—are proof that we’ve lived, stumbled, and kept going. They remind us that growth isn’t always linear, that mistakes are sometimes necessary, and that even the most painful experiences can make for a damn good story in hindsight.

So, let’s talk about the marks we carry—the ones that changed us, the ones we laugh about now, and the ones still waiting for their final chapter. Because if life insists on leaving us with scars, we might as well make them into stories worth telling. And who knows? Maybe in sharing them, we’ll realize that we were never really alone in them after all.

In Strength and Healing, Ria.

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How I Fell Into The Dramione Rabbit Hole, And Honestly? I’m Thriving!

How I Fell Into The Dramione Rabbit Hole, And Honestly? I’m Thriving!

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There are two types of people in this world: those who have never heard of Dramione, and those who fell into a black hole of fan edits, fanfiction, and out-of-context TikTok clips and never found their way back.

If you’re reading this, you already know which category I belong to.

I’ve always been a fan of the Harry Potter books and movies, but the books more IYKYK. Ever since I saw Draco in Prisoner of Azkaban at 10 years old, I have had a crush on him. They all looked gorgeous in the movie (Puberty probaby) but there was something about Draco. I have always wanted Draco and Hermione to end up together cause what’s not to love about a bad boy changing his ways for only and only the girl he loves?

I would daydream of these scenarios as a kid and then somewhere life happened. It wasn’t until I turned 23 I was reintroduced to Harry Potter but this time to DRAMIONE TOK. It felt like my dreams had come true, unicorns existed and there was only happiness in the world because what more could 10 year old Ria want? 

Boy was I wrong. It started innocently enough. A casual scroll through TikTok, a random video popping up on my For You Page. A beautifully edited clip of Hermione and Draco staring at each other, set to an emotional Taylor Swift song. The tension? The yearning? The enemies-to-lovers perfection? Hook. Line. Sunk.

The Descent Into Dramione Madness

Like any rational person, I went to the comments section. Big mistake. “Read Manacled,” someone wrote. “If you liked this, you HAVE to read Isolation.” And so, like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, I followed the breadcrumbs straight into the world of Dramione fanfiction.

One fic turned into three, three turned into an all-nighter, and suddenly, I had a TBR list of fanfiction longer than my Goodreads backlog. I was annotating quotes like I was in an AP Lit class, gasping at slow-burn moments, and (most importantly) questioning why J.K. Rowling didn’t consult the internet before finalizing the canon ships.

The Fic That Started It All: Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Falling in Love

Okay, before I even knew what Dramione Tok was, there was one fic that had me absolutely hooked—Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Falling in Love. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out. It’s the kind of fic that flips Draco Malfoy from being a snarky, emo disaster to a totally relatable mess—and honestly? I felt that on a spiritual level. It’s about vulnerability, growth, and a side of Draco that is, like, shockingly… sweet?

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Okay, but why are you so obsessed with this fic?” Let me explain. It’s not just about the fact that it’s a slow-burn, angsty, total swoon-fest. No, it’s because it actually makes you feel something for Draco. Watching him go from “ugh, emotions” to “I’m so in love I can’t even look at you” hit different, like too different. Honestly, if you can’t relate to a self-sabotaging, emotional wreck trying not to fall in love, are you even human?

This fic is, like, my gateway drug to everything Dramione-related. Suddenly, I’m falling down a TikTok rabbit hole of fan edits, people talking about Dramione theories, and my personal favorite: the ever-growing library of Dramione fanfics. But it all started with this one damn story that had me spiraling into a fandom that I’m low-key convinced I’ll never escape from.

The Fan Edits? A Spiritual Experience.

If you’ve never stumbled down the Dramione TikTok rabbit hole, I’m genuinely worried for you. The edits? Chef’s kiss. We’re talking top-tier artistry that has absolutely no business being this good. The color grading, the soundtrack choices, the perfectly-timed voice overs—they don’t just make you believe Draco Malfoy spent his Hogwarts years pining for Hermione Granger, they make you feel it deep in your soul. It’s not just a theory, my friend; it’s a lifestyle.

One minute, you’re casually scrolling, and then BOOM, an edit hits you like a freight train, set to Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift. Suddenly, you’re convinced Draco was secretly writing sad poetry about Hermione in the Malfoy Manor dungeons, and you’re not sure how to handle it. But honestly, who’s to say he didn’t?

Fanfiction: The Real Literary Canon

Listen, Dramione fanfiction isn’t just “fanfiction”—it’s a spiritual journey. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, a masterclass in character development, and proof that the fandom can craft stories that are just as, if not more, gripping than the original books. From dystopian tragedies like Manacled (which, FYI, will haunt me forever) to modern-day enemies-to-lovers gems like The Auction (I see you, drama), every story adds a new layer to the dynamic that the canon never explored.

And let’s be real for a second: isn’t it infinitely more fun to imagine a version of Draco who actually redeems himself, breaks free from his family’s toxic legacy, and falls head-over-heels for Hermione, the brightest witch of their age? The answer is yes. Always yes.

Why I’m Never Leaving Dramione Tok

At this point, leaving the Dramione fandom isn’t even an option. I’ve got playlists that would make even the most dedicated fan jealous. I’ve curated Pinterest boards filled with angst, longing, and scenes that make me wish I could live in the world where Draco and Hermione’s romance was real. I’ve even read essays that break down Draco’s secret longing like it’s a PhD thesis, and don’t get me started on the TED Talk I could give about why Dramione would’ve been the superior literary romance. I could talk for hours. No, really. Hours.

So, if you catch me five years from now, still deep in my Dramione obsession, surrounded by fan edits and an unhealthy knowledge of every slow-burn fic ever written? Just know—I regret nothing. I’m in too deep. We’re in too deep.

Your Turn, Dramione Stans

Now, I need to know: what was your gateway fic? Was it the first edit that hooked you, or maybe a particular fanfic that took you on an emotional rollercoaster you’re still recovering from? Let’s bond over the sheer brilliance of this fandom in the comments below. Honestly, I’m just trying to find my fellow Dramione stans and create a support group. We’re in this together.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my latest Dramione ramble. For more cozy fangirling and too much fanfiction love, make sure to stick around on The Cozy Corner Chronicles. And remember—whether you’re here for the edits, the fanfics, or just a comfy space to talk about your favorite OTP, you’re always welcome in my corner of the internet.

Yours in Fandom, Ria

 

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Who’s Ria?

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Still figuring that out, But here’s what I know.

Life is weird—one minute you’re thriving, the next you’re googling ‘how to get my life together at 25.’ If you’re wondering what I did with the last 24 years of my life—trust me, same.

Hi! I’m Ria – I have no idea what I’m doing but I’ll write about it anyway. I am a writer, and can confirm that I’m an overthinker. I am the kind of person who romanticizes life even when it’s falling apart. I believe in deep conversations, cozy moments, and the magic of words to make sense of all the chaos.

I’ve always been a storyteller, even before I knew what to call it. My first story was rating my friends at my school, which my father tore out because there was a boy’s name. Dads, am I right? My writing then slowly migrated to my safely hidden school notebook margins, and in even more safely hidden late-night journal entries, and in unsent texts I was too scared to send.
Writing has been my safe space—somewhere to put my thoughts when my mind gets too loud, somewhere to unravel my experiences, heal, and maybe even help someone else feel a little less alone.

Life hasn’t exactly been a perfectly wrapped aesthetic journey. It’s been messy, full of detours, heartbreaks, and lessons I didn’t sign up for. But that’s the thing about scars—they tell stories. And I’m slowly learning to wear mine with pride.

I started Sips and Scars as a way to put all of it into words—the highs, the lows, the little moments in between that make life feel real. But beyond the blog, I’m just a person figuring things out, just like you. I’m chasing dreams, learning new things (including how to actually rest), and trying to build a life that feels like home.

When I’m not writing, I’m probably lost in a book, sipping cold coffee, or deep-diving into content strategy. Ideally, I’d have my cat on my lap while I write—but he prefers to give me the cold shoulder from a safe distance, like the diva he is.

If you’re here—whether by accident, curiosity, or the universe’s weird way of connecting people—I hope you stay awhile. Let’s figure out this whole being-human thing together, one sip and one scar at a time.

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The Living Room

Sips, Scars, and Starting Somewhere.

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Pour a Cup, Unpack a Scar.

When you decide to open your own corner of the internet, it’s more than just a website. It’s where your thoughts and memories live, unapologetically, exactly as they are.

When I told my dad I was creating a blog, he asked me why. Not because he didn’t want me to, but because he was imagining a future I haven’t yet figured out. It was easier for me to tell him I was creating it as a portfolio for future jobs. I don’t think he fully understands the concept yet, but he is supportive.

The keywords that led to his approval of my blog? “Future Jobs.”

That isn’t a complete lie though—it is a portfolio, but of my life. If this leads to a future job offer, then present me will be super proud of herself. But even if it doesn’t (that thought and this economy are my arch-rivals), I know I’ll look back and be massively, super proud. And yes, that is a lot of pride.

It took me years to find the courage to let others see my cracks. Now I’m willingly opening the door and letting them breathe because it’s getting a little stuffy here day by day.

Welcome to Sips and Scars

A place where I stop pretending and finally get real. A space where I let myself feel everything—so you can feel it too.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is the courage to open the closet where I’ve shoved all my existential (and non-existent) fears. Baby steps.

Come on in, don’t be shy. Kick off your shoes and make yourself at home. The door is always open, and the doormat says: “Leave your worries here and enter in peace.” It might sound like something you’d hear at church, but trust me—it’s a cool mat.

And now we’re in my living room. It’s exactly what it sounds like—a cozy, messy, wonderfully imperfect space where stories are shared, hearts are healed, and where a little bit of chaos is always welcome. Let me show you around.

The Cozy Corner Chronicles

Think of this space as the big, overstuffed couch in the room—the one that welcomes you after a long day, offering nothing but comfort and a much-needed escape.

Here, I’m not talking about life’s grand, earth-shattering moments. I’m talking about the little things—the feel of your favorite blanket, the laughter shared over a cup of tea, the books that transport you to other worlds, and the movies that remind you everything will be okay.

It’s for comfort seekers and soft souls, for those who find magic in the small, quiet joys.

Let’s slow down, take a deep breath, and savor the little things that make life feel like home.

Marked & Memoired 

Because every scar, every stumble, and every “well, that was a mistake” moment comes with a story worth telling.

This is where the past meets the present, where memories resurface not as wounds but as words—sometimes deep, sometimes hilarious, but always real. Life leaves marks on all of us, but instead of just carrying them, why not turn them into stories? Some are heavy, some are ridiculous, and some are just those “what even was that” moments that stick with us.

Marked & Memoired—a place where the past isn’t baggage; it’s material.

Ria’s Strategies

Every living room needs its wildcard, and this is mine. Picture this space as the spot where I spill more than just coffee on a Monday morning.

This isn’t your typical professional playbook—it’s where I share the behind-the-scenes of my journey into social media, content creation, and digital marketing. The wins, the flops, the oops, that didn’t go as planned moments. It’s messy, it’s real, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Expect laughs, some “Ohhh, that makes sense” moments, and a whole lot of honesty.

If the Living Room Isn’t Your Vibe,

You can also imagine this space as your favourite cafe that you’ve gatekept for so long. The one where you can spend your mornings, afternoons, and evenings and forget time. You know the one that I’m talking about.

Imagine sitting in that cozy corner and re-reading the same book you’ve loved a hundred times or listening to that one song on repeat, cause same.

It’s all up to you, Sips and Scars can feel like your favourite cafe, park, library or even a slow pub at night. This is where you can recharge.

This is where you can recharge. Here, the energy is always real, and this sanctuary is always safe, I promise.

So, Why Sips and Scars?

Sips for the sweetness of life, and Scars for the lessons learned, the pain endured, and the beauty that emerges when we share it all.

Life’s ups, downs, and everything in between—let’s embrace it all together.

Pull up a chair, a bean bag, or just sink into the rug — whatever feels right. I hope you’ll settle in, stay a while, and find a little bit of yourself in these stories.

Because here at Sips and Scars, everyone’s welcome, and every story matters. 

With love, Ria.



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