My love for stationery can fix me for a good 72 hours.

I've always had a soft spot for stationery. There’s something deeply satisfying about the click of a new pen, the crispness of untouched pages in a planner, or the subtle rainbow of pastel sticky notes lined up neatly in a drawer. It’s not just about aesthetics, it’s about potential. Every time I buy a notebook, it feels like I’m buying a fresh start.

That week, college had been chaotic. Assignments were piling up, my bag was a black hole of crumpled papers, and my phone’s Notes app had 43 unfinished reminders. So naturally, I did what I would do if I feel like I can finish all my work but I don't have the resources (stationery = motivation), so I took a trip to the stationery store.

I didn’t even plan on going, to be honest. I was passing by, saw a “New Arrivals” sign in glittery letters, and the next thing I knew, I was inside, surrounded by rows of journals, pens, washi tapes, and highlighters calling my name. I told myself I’d just “browse”. Lies.

I walked out with a new planner, two gel pens, three dual-tip highlighters, a set of sticky tabs, and a cute sketchbook with leaves on the cover that looked like it belonged to a deeply organised person. I wasn’t sure if that person was me but I wanted her to be.

When I got home, I set everything up. I labelled sections in the planner: "Deadlines", "College Stuff", "Ideas", and even one for "Self-Care" because why not. I made colour codes. I even drew a tiny habit tracker with boxes to tick off daily, sleep before 12 AM, drink enough water, revise notes. It looked so perfect that I just stared at it for a while, convinced this was going to change everything.

For the next two days, I was on fire. I made to-do lists every morning. I actually completed tasks just for the joy of highlighting them in neon pink. My notes looked aesthetic. I even made a spread in my sketchbook and began doodling leaves and stars, nothing fancy, just enough to feel like I had a creative side that was finally breathing again.

But by the fourth day, things started slipping. I forgot to update the planner. My gel pen ran out of ink (probably from all the motivational quotes I kept writing in the margins). A class got rescheduled, and I didn’t bother moving it in the planner. The drawing in the sketchbook, beautiful top half, completely blank bottom half. The high of organisation wore off, and life quietly returned to its usual mess/chaos/uncoordinated days.

The stationery didn’t fix everything. It didn’t make me magically more productive or disciplined. But weirdly, I didn’t regret buying any of it. For those few days, I felt a little more put together, a little more in control, and that feeling, even if temporary, was and is always worth something.

What I learnt: Stationery won’t fix your life, but it might give you a nudge. Sometimes all you need is a fresh page, a smooth pen, and the illusion of control to feel like you’re trying. And honestly, that’s still better than not trying at all.


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