Guilt has a shape people recognise. It points. It names a moment, a choice, a sentence you wish you could pull back into your mouth. It sits beside the story of you, like a stain you can describe without touching it. Shame doesn’t sit beside anything. It spreads. It isn’t interested in what happened so … Read more
Shame doesn’t arrive like sadness does. It doesn’t even arrive like fear. It drops in already convinced it should not be seen. The first thing it does is tighten the throat, as if speech itself would be the mistake that proves it right. People say the word easily enough, in the abstract. Shame as a … Read more
Shame doesn’t arrive like a thought. It arrives like a drop in temperature. Your name feels louder than it should. Your skin becomes a kind of evidence. Nothing dramatic has happened in the room, yet something in you starts acting as if it has. It isn’t always about what you did. Sometimes it’s about being … Read more