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“Have you ever asked yourself ‘Why me?’ when life didn’t go the way you expected?”

There’s a moment in life—quiet, heavy, almost suffocating—when everything narrows down to one question: “Why me?” Not loudly. Not dramatically. But internally. Repeatedly. Relentlessly. It shows up when life doesn’t go as planned. When something cracks open your sense of control. When the story you thought you were living suddenly rewrites itself without your permission. A breakup. A diagnosis. A betrayal. A loss. A failure. And in that moment, you don’t want philosophy. You don’t want advice. You just want an answer. Why me? When Dante Asked the Same Question While reading Canto II of Dante’s Inferno , I stumbled upon something deeply human—something that didn’t feel like poetry or literature, but like a mirror. Before Dante begins his journey into Hell, he hesitates. He stops. Doubts himself. Questions everything. And then he turns to Virgil and essentially asks: Why me? I am no one. Why am I chosen for this? Think about that. Dante isn’t standing a...
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About Me


I have never really been able to “finish” a book.

Not in the way most people mean it.

Because for me, the last page is rarely the end. It is usually where something begins — a question, a discomfort, a quiet realisation that sits somewhere in the background of my day.

Litponder was born from that space.

I read, and then I pause. I think about what stayed, what unsettled me, what felt familiar in ways I couldn’t immediately explain. This blog is where those thoughts find their way out — not as reviews or summaries, but as reflections.

I’m not trying to analyse literature in the academic sense, and I’m not here to tell you what a book means. I’m more interested in what it does — how it shifts something within us, how it mirrors parts of life we often overlook.

Sometimes what I write may feel incomplete, like a thought still forming. That’s intentional. Because understanding, at least for me, is rarely neat or final.

If you’ve ever carried a story with you long after closing the book, if you’ve ever paused mid-thought because something felt too real — then you already understand this space.

And if you feel like sharing your own reflections, you’re always welcome here.


— Anita

Reader. Thinker. Someone who lets stories linger.

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