You can trust someone and still keep a pocket of yourself folded tight. It isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just a quiet refusal to hand over certain sentences, certain details, the way you really meant something when you laughed. Trust gets described like a bridge, like once it’s built you can walk anything across it. … Read more
Letting go gets described like a clean motion, a hand opening. But when it actually happens, it rarely feels clean. It feels like misplacing something you were sure was in your pocket. You keep patting the same place, not because it will reappear, but because your body still thinks it should be there. There’s a … Read more
Some days the mind doesn’t feel like thinking. It feels like orbiting. A tight loop with no scenery, just the same angle, the same pull, the same small dread of drifting too far out. And when there’s nothing to circle, the air gets thin. Not peace. More like a blank that refuses to stay blank, … Read more
Intrusive thoughts arrive with the wrong timing, like someone speaking a private sentence into a public space. You didn’t invite them. You don’t even agree with them. Still they appear, full-volume, and your attention snaps toward them as if attention is something that can be hijacked. What makes it worse is the feeling of ownership. … Read more
It’s strange how shame doesn’t arrive like weather. It arrives like ancestry. Not a thing that passes through, but a thing that already has your name on it. You can almost forget there was ever a moment before it, a cleaner outline of yourself. Sometimes the memory of what happened is blurry, but the aftertaste … Read more
Anger begins as a messenger. It arrives with the heat and speed of weather, a quick system for telling us that something feels wrong, that a boundary has been crossed, that a loss has landed. In its first form it is movement: a flare, a surge, a pulse that asks to be noticed. But there … Read more