Some People Travel the World on Their Gap Year. I Stayed Home and Rot

3 Months Left of My Gap Year and I’ve Achieved Nothing but Tooth Pain🦷

Let’s not lie to each other. My gap year has been terrible. Actually, scratch that—it’s been a joke, and not even the funny kind. Like, who writes this stuff? Because if this is what adulthood was supposed to feel like, I want a refund.

Till today:

No job.

No pocket money.

No fixed income.

Nothing in my bank account except dust and disappointment.

No college or university acceptance email lighting up my inbox.

What I do have is anger, laziness, depression, and anxiety—basically a cocktail of emotions that nobody ordered but I’ve been forced to drink. My social life? Nonexistent. No dating (I thought I’d at least start by now—spoiler alert: nope). I’m always in the house, or at church, or at the dentist. Yes, my most consistent relationship this year is with my dentist.

And yet, I did get one thing I prayed for: braces. Yeah, the same braces that make people complain and cry about pain? For me, they’re a blessing. I can finally smile without cringing at my reflection. That’s huge. For once, I feel grateful. Shoutout to my sponsors—y’all saved my self-esteem.

But gratitude doesn’t pay bills. Gratitude doesn’t buy me clothes for my 20th birthday, or help me spoil myself, or give me the independence I wanted this year. I wanted to work, save, and finally treat myself. Instead, I’m sitting here broke, with a wishlist in my heart, too scared to ask my parents because I already know what they’ll say: “We don’t have money. Stop being ungrateful.”

So, I keep quiet. And every month my patience stretches thinner and thinner. People tell me, “Be patient, things take time.” And I want to scream, “I’ve been patient, where’s the reward?”

Three months left until 2026. Maybe it’ll end with a bang, or maybe I’ll just roll into the new year with nothing but these braces and a stronger sense of sarcasm. Either way, this was my gap year: not glamorous, not Instagram-perfect. Just raw, messy, and painfully real.

Because sometimes the “dreamer’s pause” isn’t about chasing dreams. It’s about sitting in the wreckage, laughing through the tears, and waiting for a miracle.

— The girl behind The Dreamer’s Pause

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

At What Point Does Your Offense Become My Death Sentence?

If Offense Justifies Assassination, Then Freedom of Speech Is Already Dead

[Credit: Grok ~ Lilo Phedra]

There’s one question that has been burning in me since Charlie Kirk’s assassination: to what point do we allow ourselves to be offended before we lose self-control?

It’s not an easy question, because I’ve been there. I’ve been offended countless times — in debates about Christianity and Islam, in discussions about politics, religion, and morality. People have mocked what I believe in, laughed at my faith, and tried to tear down everything I stand for. And yes, it hurts. But here’s the truth: being offended does not give me the right to destroy someone else’s life.

Yet that is exactly what happened to Charlie Kirk.

The Slippery Slope of Offense

[Credit: Grok~ Lilo Phedra]

We’ve all seen it play out. People clip 30 seconds of a video out of context and spread it online. Then comes the mockery, the name-calling, the attacks on family. After that, the false accusations, the reputational smears, the loss of jobs, the collapse of credibility. And all of this, not because the person committed a crime, but because they dared to speak words that triggered someone.

So here’s the question: at what point is offense ever enough to justify assassination?

Charlie Kirk didn’t just die as a commentator or a political figure. He died as somebody’s child. Somebody’s husband. Somebody’s father. Somebody’s friend. Somebody’s boss. A human being — murdered because someone was offended.

Who Gets to Rejoice?

Let’s not pretend we didn’t see it. The people who rejoiced at his death weren’t all, but a disturbing majority came from specific circles:

Liberal and democratic individuals, black and white alike.

The LGBTQ community — some, not all.

The Muslim community — again, not all, but many.

We saw the harsh comments directed at Kirk and his family. And whether you agreed with his politics or not, the reaction revealed something deeper: people have lost the ability to separate disagreement from dehumanization.

Because if Charlie Kirk was really all the names they labeled him — racist, bigot, hateful, dangerous — do you honestly think people like Candace Owens, Piers Morgan, Donald Trump or even other prominent public figures would have worked with him? Absolutely not. These are individuals who guard their reputations carefully. They collaborated with him because he stood for free speech. He knew the difference between free speech and hate speech — a difference many today seem unwilling to recognize.

Dialogue or Destruction?

[Credit: Grok~ Lilo Phedra]

And so I ask again: what is the point of dialogue and debate if the end result is not conversation, but persecution? What’s the point of debating if your opponent doesn’t want to exchange ideas, but to cancel, smear, and eventually silence you?

Debating is supposed to be the battleground of ideas, not the battlefield of lives. It’s supposed to test opinions, perspectives, and yes — even truths. But we’ve reached a point where even speaking truth can get you killed.

Some people talk about “my truth.” Let me be blunt: there is no such thing as “my truth.” There is truth — and there are opinions. And when society treats truth as an offense, we have not only lost free speech; we have cheapened humanity itself.

The Awakening

[Credit: Pinterest]

But here’s the strange, miraculous twist. Out of Kirk’s death, something is happening: young people are waking up. They are realizing that if freedom of speech can be assassinated in broad daylight, then no one is safe. They are questioning, debating, and pushing back against the culture of offense.

It’s a tragic irony that it took a death for people to realize this, but sometimes truth only rises when silence becomes unbearable.

Where Do We Draw the Line?

Charlie Kirk didn’t die because of hate. He died because someone couldn’t handle the truth. And now the real question isn’t about him anymore — it’s about us.

At what point do we decide offense is worth destroying reputations?

At what point do we decide offense is worth ruining families?

At what point do we decide offense is worth taking lives?

Because once offense justifies persecution, freedom of speech is not only fragile — it’s already dead.

Final Word

[Credit: Facebook unknown]

Charlie Kirk’s death was not just an assassination of a man. It was the assassination of free speech. And unless we learn to be comfortable with being offended — even when it hurts, even when we hate it — we will keep killing debate, killing humanity, and killing the very freedom that makes us human.

The question still remains: to what point will we let offense rule us?

MUST READ 👇🏿

http://the-dreamers-pause-18.blogspot.com/2025/09/free-speech-buried-at-31-assassination.html

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Opportunistic Outrage: BLM, Silence, and the Murder of Iryna Zarutska

When Justice Becomes a Circus: The Charlotte Train Murder and the BLM Illusion

There are moments in life where the madness of the world feels too heavy to put into words—but then you realize, silence is complicity. This is one of those moments. A young woman, Iryna Zarutska, just 23 years old, fled the war in Ukraine to find freedom, safety, and opportunity in America. Instead of safety, she met her death—stabbed to death on a Charlotte light rail train by a man who had no reason, no provocation, no humanity. A life so full of promise cut short in a place that was supposed to be a refuge. And while her family mourns, while ordinary people grieve this tragedy, what do we see from activists like Black Lives Matter? A grotesque repost of a video declaring that “all oppressed people have a right to violence.”

Let’s stop right there. This isn’t just tone-deaf—it’s witchcraft-level madness. Since when are black people in America oppressed? Please, stop the lies. Stop this cap. In 2025, black people have access to schools, jobs, houses, cars, businesses, beaches, marriage, TikTok collaborations, the very same opportunities as everyone else. Even Africans who migrate to America from across the ocean build homes, buy cars, and live freely. So where exactly is this so-called “oppression” that justifies violence? If we were truly oppressed, we wouldn’t have access to social media to shout “oppression” every day. We wouldn’t be free to apply for any job, marry who we choose, or start businesses. The idea that violence is somehow a birthright for the “oppressed” is not only insulting—it is dangerous.

And yet, while a young girl lies in her grave, BLM hides behind semantics: “The video was not related to her death.” Please. It’s a trick. It’s spin. It’s distraction. And for what? This organization has already been exposed for enriching its founders while families of victims—the very people they claim to represent—are left with nothing. Millions of dollars collected in the name of black lives, and where is the accountability? Where is the justice?

Now let’s talk about the bystanders on that train. The surveillance footage shows multiple people near Iryna when the attack happened. Three black individuals were seated on the left side, staring at her as she was attacked. Their reaction? Suspicious. Outrageous. Their silence and lack of action—no call to police, no alert to train security, no attempt to communicate support—screams questions that need answers.

Then there’s the black woman in the red top, sitting in the same lane: she saw the entire attack unfold, yet did nothing, no gesture of concern, no call for help. Others in the back were clearly traumatized—shaken, scared—but even they did not attempt to reach out or show any human response. Iryna, a young woman just maybe returning from work, sitting quietly on her phone, was stabbed, bleeding, and silently crying as she fell from her seat. And yet, nobody did anything—not even the smallest gesture to say, “We see you, help is coming.”

I truly believe she could have been alive if someone had intervened, even minimally. These bystanders need to be held accountable, honestly. And yes, maybe racism played a role; maybe in the back of their minds, they thought, “They treated us bad, so they just deserve it.” If that’s the case, it’s disgusting, it’s outrageous, and it needs to be exposed. The fact that their faces were visible in the footage is important—they need to come forward and explain themselves, and yes, they are suspects until proven otherwise.

Conclusion: The Illusion of Oppression

This case isn’t just about one young woman—it’s about the lies we’re being fed. Oppression is being weaponized, not lived. Victimhood is being sold like a product, not experienced as reality. And all the while, real victims like Iryna are forgotten, their names overshadowed by slogans, hashtags, and activists who cash in on misery. It’s time to wake up. To call out the hypocrisy. To demand accountability—not just from murderers like DeCarlos Brown Jr., but from movements that twist violence into virtue and profit from pain.

Because when justice becomes a circus, the real victims are left buried—and the rest of us are left angry, grieving, and disgusted.

Rest in peace Iryna. Karma will surely get to that man🕊️🤍

MUST READ 👇🏿:

Phedra, L. (2025, September 1). She hid her newborn in the closet and got arrested. The Dreamer's Pause. Retrieved September 11, 2025, from

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved

💥 Free Speech Buried at 31: The Assassination of Charlie Kirk

Free Speech Took a Bullet: The Assassination of Charlie Kirk

There are moments when news doesn’t just arrive — it crashes, it shakes, it bruises. This morning at 6:30 a.m. South African time, I stumbled across a post on Facebook — not a news article, not a formal announcement, but the sarcastic, mocking memes of those who hated Charlie Kirk. They laughed, they mocked, they celebrated. And then I realized: it wasn’t satire. It was real. Charlie Kirk was gone.

At just 31 years old, Charlie Kirk — husband, father of two, conservative firebrand, YouTube discoverer’s gem, unapologetic defender of his faith and politics — was shot dead during his “American Comeback Tour” at Utah Valley University. He died not in silence, but in the fire of his own mission: speaking the truth.

✍️ Who He Was

Before there was Candace Owens, Andrew Wilson, Ben Shapiro, Brandon Tatum, or even Piers Morgan, there was Charlie Kirk — a voice I discovered on YouTube, not by accident, but by impact. He was straightforward, controversial, sharp as a blade. He said what he believed, whether you liked it or not. And people didn’t like it. That’s why they mocked. That’s why they jeered. That’s why his words triggered.

But that’s also why his words mattered.

⚖️ What His Death Means

Some will tell you it was “meant to be.” I refuse to accept that. Dying at 31, leaving behind two children not even in their teenage years, and a wife forced into widowhood overnight — that is not destiny. That is theft.

I don’t believe in silencing people because you disagree with them. Freedom of speech means exactly that: you speak, I speak, we argue, we debate, we disagree. But you don’t murder. You don’t assassinate. You don’t pull the trigger because someone’s words cut deeper than your ego.

This feels planned. Because you don’t walk onto a university campus with a gun for “no reason.” Not unless you are a gangster. Not unless you had an agenda. And the agenda here was simple: to silence a man who refused to be silent.

🌍 The Reactions We Saw

What shook me almost as much as his death were the reactions. The laughing emojis. The mocking captions. The posts dripping with sarcasm. Death should never be entertainment, no matter where you stand politically. To rejoice in murder is to side with chaos. It is to cheapen humanity.

Yet, many gave condolences too. Across the aisle, across the world, from Trump to ordinary Americans, tributes poured in. Because whether you loved him or hated him, Charlie Kirk was impossible to ignore.

🕊️ Final Thoughts from The Dreamer’s Pause

Charlie Kirk’s mission was not complete. He had more to say, more to do, more lives to challenge, inspire, and even provoke. That’s the power of voices like his — they don’t just talk; they shift atmospheres.

To his wife and his children, I offer my deepest condolences. To those who mocked his death, karma doesn’t miss. And to the rest of us — remember this: free speech is only free if it isn’t punished with death.

Charlie Kirk was not just a man. He was a disruption. He was an impact. He was a storm.

May his soul rest in peace. 🕊️

— By the girl behind The Dreamer’s Pause

Disclaimer: Images used on this blog are for illustrative purposes only and remain the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

How I Survived My Second Interview Without Crying (Mostly)

I Showed Up in Tekkies and Chaos Decided to Attend Too: My Second Job Interview

Four days before my interview, I got the SMS. Yep. Out of nowhere. I was doing my chores, folding laundry, thinking about absolutely nothing stressful, when my phone buzzes. And I freeze. My heart does that weird flip thing, and I’m like: Okay, calm down, Lilo, it’s just an interview… but inside, I’m screaming, panicking, overthinking, and trying to memorize everything about the company all at once.

Fast forward to the morning of the interview. I woke up at half past six, jumped into the shower like my life depends on it, brushed my teeth, and picked out my outfit. Tekkies on. Simple, neat, casual—but cute. Checked my documents one last time: ID, matric certificate, CV—all there. Lip gloss? Check. Phone charged? Check. Confidence… assembling itself slowly.

Transport arrives. I hop in, trying to play cool, trying not to think about the hundreds of other people who were probably going to be there. My brain screams: You’ve only got one shot at this, don’t mess it up.

We arrive, and… chaos. Absolute chaos. I expected maybe ten people. Nope. There were like… hundreds. People everywhere, chatting, laughing, some looking ready for a formal photo shoot, others like they rolled straight out of bed. And me? The only Congolese 🇨🇩, standing there trying not to look like I was silently crying inside. 😬

I watched people go in and come out. Whispering. Sharing tips. Giving side-eye. And I just stood there, legs stiff, nerves growing, silently praying I wouldn’t faint before my turn. Some people were neat, others… let’s just say fashion was optional. I stayed casual, neat enough to not look like a complete mess, but also comfortable enough to survive the wait.

Finally, it’s my turn. I walk in. She sits. I stand. Classic interview move, right? I hand over my documents, smile like I’m fine, even though my heart is doing gymnastics. She asks about me. Not the company. Not the role. Just me. My background, where I live, what I’ve done. I answer, trying to sound composed, while internally thinking: Why did I overthink this so much?

I ask two questions, like a pro (because I am a professional pro girl, okay?). What qualities does she look for in warehouse assistants? Attention to detail. Flexibility. Proactivity. Got it. And could a temporary assistant get a permanent role? Possible… but not likely. Ouch.

I even asked why other people were told they’d hear back Wednesday while I wasn’t. Her answer? Same thing. I’d get a call. Maybe I sounded a bit nosy, but clarity is my vibe.

I leave, taking deep breaths, trying not to trip over the chaos of people still waiting, still whispering, still judging each other silently. And as I walk out, I feel it—relief, hope, nerves, and a tiny, quiet laugh at how absolutely crazy the whole thing was.

So, what did I learn?

1. Dress neatly, even if casual. You don’t need a suit, but looking put together counts more than you think.

2. Prepare, but expect surprises. You can study all the company info in the world, but interviews will throw curveballs. Flexibility is your secret weapon.

3. Ask questions professionally. Curiosity is good, nosiness isn’t. Two clear, smart questions are enough.

4. Attention to detail matters. From your documents to how you present yourself, small things leave big impressions.

5. Show up and stay composed. Chaos will happen. Waiting, stares, interruptions—they’re all part of the test. How you handle them tells more about you than any answer.

Walking away, I realized the interview wasn’t just about getting the job. It was about surviving the chaos, handling stress, staying confident, and learning from the process. The call hasn’t come yet, but I’m proud. I showed up. I stayed composed. And that, dreamers, is what counts.

- Lilo Phedra 

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

MUST READ👇🏿:

The girl behind The Dreamer’s Pause. (2025, April). Discarded but chosen: Wild wobbly ride. The Dreamer’s Pause Blog.