I didn’t set out to write about my inner weather. Somewhere between raising a family, writing children’s books, and losing entire evenings to my own to-do list, I noticed I was thinking in essays, turning over the same questions on loop, usually while doing dishes or lying awake at 2am.
Venting Cloud is where those thoughts finally land somewhere useful, instead of just circling.
I write about the chaos and charm of real life, quirks and all.
Relationships, midlife, friendship, the strange grief of small
transitions, the questions we’re taught not to ask out loud. Nothing here is a listicle. Some of it is funny. Some of it isn’t. Most of it, I hope, is honest.
By day, I’m a published children’s book author, which means I spend a suspicious amount of time thinking about both five-year-olds and existential crises, sometimes in the same afternoon.
If something here made you feel a little less alone, that was the whole point. Thanks for reading.
Divya M.