KAMRAN AHMAD
Bio
Creative digital designer, lifelong learning & storyteller. Sharing inspiring stories on mindset, business, & personal growth. Let's build a future that matters_ one idea at a time.
Stories (188)
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The Gate We All Walk Through
I didn’t realize I’d disappeared until I saw my reflection and didn’t recognize myself. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow—a word silenced here, an opinion softened there, a laugh forced to match the room. I traded pieces of myself for acceptance, like coins dropped into a vending machine that never gave back what I paid for.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Keeper of Secrets
I didn’t go in for a book. I went in to escape the rain. It was a gray Tuesday in March, the kind of day that presses down on your chest like a wet blanket. I’d just received news I wasn’t ready for—a job lost, a relationship frayed, the quiet unraveling of plans I’d spent years building. I walked without direction, shoulders hunched, until I saw it: a narrow storefront with a flickering “Open” sign and a window full of leaning paperbacks.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Crossroads of Becoming
I found it by accident. Tucked between a laundromat and a shuttered bookstore, half-hidden by ivy and time, stood a rusted phone booth. Not the sleek glass kind from movies, but an old metal one—peeling paint, cracked receiver, a dial so stiff it groaned when turned. No one had used it in years. Probably decades.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Art
The Last Game of the Season
I didn’t go for the win. I went because it was the last game. The gym was packed—folding chairs lined the walls, parents stood in the back, and the buzz of nervous energy hung thick in the air. Two rival high schools, decades of history, one championship on the line. But I wasn’t there for the trophy. I was there for my nephew, who’d spent all season riding the bench.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Night the Gym Felt Like Church
I didn’t go for the basketball. I went because my nephew asked me to. He’s thirteen, wears his hair in messy curls, and talks about the game like it’s a secret language only he and the ball understand. “You have to see how they move together, Uncle,” he’d said, eyes wide. “It’s like they’re speaking without words.”
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Gamers
The Love That Stays Off-Camera
I didn’t notice the fire until it was almost too late. It was a Tuesday in late October. Dry wind, brittle leaves, the kind of air that crackles with danger. I was inside, scrolling through bad news on my phone, when the smell hit—acrid, sharp, wrong. I ran outside just as smoke curled over the ridge behind our street.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Families
The Shadow of a Giant
I never met him. But I knew his voice. It came through our black-and-white TV in 1983, calm and steady, speaking of “morning in America” while my father fixed dinner and my mother worried about bills. To me, he was just a man in a suit—distant, polished, untouchable.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in History
The Day Everything Changed
I missed the last bus on purpose. Not because I wanted to be stranded, but because I couldn’t face going home. That day had been one long unraveling—work mistakes, a call from my sister about our mother’s health, the kind of exhaustion that lives in your bones. The bus stop bench was cold, the sky bruised with storm clouds, and I just… stayed. Let the schedule pass. Let the world move on without me.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Geeks
The Man Who Fixed the Clock
I didn’t notice the clock was broken until it stopped. It sat on the corner shelf of my grandparents’ living room for as long as I could remember—brass, ornate, with Roman numerals and a soft, steady tick that marked the rhythm of every visit. My grandfather wound it every Sunday without fail, even in his nineties, even when his hands shook.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Boy Who Carried the Ball Home
I didn’t go to the game for the score. I went because my nephew asked me to. He’s twelve, wears his hair in a messy bun, and talks about basketball like it’s a secret language only he and the ball understand. “It’s not about winning,” he’d said, eyes bright. “It’s about who shows up when it matters.”
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Night the Future Felt Like Hope
I didn’t go to the store for inspiration. I went because I was out of coffee. It was a Tuesday in early March—gray, damp, the kind of morning that clings to your shoulders like a wet coat. I hadn’t slept. My mind was a tangle of unread messages, overdue bills, and the low hum of dread that had become my baseline. The grocery store was just a pit stop on the way to another day I wasn’t sure I could face.
By KAMRAN AHMAD8 days ago in Gamers
The Night I Stopped Waiting for Wings
I was fifteen the first time I saw the wings. It was 2009. My best friend and I huddled in her basement, sharing a bag of chips, eyes glued to the TV as women in glitter and lace walked like they owned the air itself. They were radiant, powerful, untouchable. One wore wings so wide they brushed the stage lights; another smiled like she held the secret to happiness itself.
By KAMRAN AHMAD8 days ago in Geeks
