chapter one

one year of writing here

23 february 2025.
i remember that day the way people remember a song that once saved them. not just the lyrics, but the feeling. the way it wrapped around them when nothing else did.

and now it is 23 february 2026. one year later.

it is strange how a date can hold so much weight. to most people, it is just another square on a calendar. to me, it is the day i built a door and accidentally found a home behind it.

that was the day i started my substack.
i didn’t know it then, but it would slowly turn into my digital home. a place where i could leave pieces of myself without being afraid they would disappear.

writing has always been me. before the numbers. before the subscribers. before the visibility.

in the beginning, even one like could make my entire day. one comment would have me rereading it at night like it was a letter written just for me. and i still do that. i still go back. i still reread. whether it was 2 subscribers or 4.6k, that feeling never changed. and i am proud of that. i never let numbers steal the softness from me.

then there was a season when everything sped up.

hundreds of subscribers in days. notes reaching thousands. notifications that wouldn’t stop. visibility that felt flattering at first and overwhelming right after. suddenly there were too many eyes. too many expectations. too much noise.

and if i am being honest, i wasn’t always grateful. i thought it would last forever. i didn’t realize how fragile momentum can be until it slowed down.

between the sudden growth and the sudden quiet, my account got suspended twice. those days scared me more than i admitted out loud. losing access to something you have poured your heart into feels like watching a part of your world flicker.

but i wasn’t alone. and that made all the difference.

when i look back, it is not the big milestones that feel the heaviest. it is the small moments.

my most popular note:

my most popular post:

the day i searched “rishika substack” online just for fun and saw people reposting my words on instagram and pinterest. that feeling was unreal.

the random fact that at one point i had more subscribers than shashi tharoor. i still smile when i think about that:

my first collaboration with my favorite people:

and maybe my favorite moment of all: two of the sweetest people meeting in my subscriber chat and becoming the most adorable couple ever. i wish you both the softest, happiest life ahead:

sorry for the delay btw

but if you ask me what truly built this year, i won’t say numbers or milestones.

i will say people.

scribbles is the heart of it all. it is the name of my publication, yes. but more than that, it is my soul in lowercase. it is where the writer version of me and the real version of me learned to sit at the same table. the subscriber chat inside it feels like found family. a place where i am not just a writer you read, but a person you talk to:

i also created another publication called letters and coffee. if you’re not there yet, maybe one day you will be.

i have always loved plum cake. that’s why i call my subscribers my little plum cakes. it sounds silly, but it feels warm. and warmth matters here.

i even created a discord server.

writers’ lounge is exactly what it sounds like: a cozy corner for writers to breathe. to share drafts. to talk after long days. to collaborate. to join voice calls. to simply be:

https://discord.gg/RfkuSZN38m

and then there is self promoting saturdays.

every saturday, i post a thread in my subscriber chat where anyone can drop their favorite posts. theirs or someone else’s. i read them. i make time for them. because every writer deserves to be seen.

this year was shaped by specific names too.

izzy, we started as strangers and somehow you became someone who will always have a soft corner in my heart. you made me feel safe being exactly who i am. i love you for that.

dash, wherever life has taken you, i hope it is kind. the love you carried for izzy was pure, and i hope it continues to find its way back to you.

karma, thank you will never feel like enough. but thank you. man, you saved my fucking life.

willow, you are sunshine in human form. you are an older sister in a way life forgot to give me, and i look up to you more than you know.

tanu. i don’t have dramatic words here. you changed my life in quiet ways. and that is all i have to say.

now this journey wasn’t all rainbows. it wasn’t all glitter and sunshine.

there was burnout. exhaustion. a full week of giving up.

and to pearly lady, i am sorry for how things unfolded. but thank you for the part you played in my story.

growth has slowed now. and yes, it hurts sometimes. but slowing down taught me something speed never could: one reader matters. one message matters. one person connecting with a sentence is enough.

that’s why transparency matters to me.

ask me anything. i will answer. i don’t want this to feel like a stage. i want it to feel like a table we all sit around together.

scribblers gave me more than numbers ever could. it gave me a digital home. a place where strangers slowly stopped feeling like strangers.

i hope my words feel like a cup of coffee in your hands. warm. steady. meant to be sipped slowly.

this is a space for words that are meant to be read softly. maybe on slow mornings. maybe late evenings. maybe on days when you need to feel less alone.

this is chapter one.

i don’t know what chapter two looks like.

i can’t promise grand things. but i can promise that i choose to stay.

thank you for reading this chapter with me. i will see you in chapter two.

and aside from substack, here is where you can find me:
discord: itsloveydoveyy
pinterest: itsloveydoveyy
other substack: @itsrishikaaa
gmail: itsrishikaaa@gmail.com

🥔for you

love,
r.