inner-peace
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There is a strange silence that happens when there is finally nothing left to bitch at. Not because life became perfect.Not because every problem vanished into some magical sunrise bullshit.But because one ordinary day you realize you are no longer emotionally available for your own suffering. You are not mad.Not sad.Not overly excited either. You…
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I do not care to be liked. That sentence alone terrifies people more than rage ever could. Because people can handle anger. They can handle drama. They can handle someone screaming, crying, throwing chairs, posting paragraphs online like a wounded raccoon fighting for emotional custody of its own bad decisions. But a person who genuinely…
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There is something cold about realizing some people already had their last conversation with you and never even knew it. No dramatic goodbye. No slammed doors. No movie scene. Just you standing there in the middle of a regular Tuesday already emotionally packed and halfway gone while they keep talking like tomorrow is guaranteed. That…
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There is a very specific type of confidence it takes to burn a bridge…While still standing on it…With no backup plan…And a gas can labeled “my ego said it was fine.” These are the same people who dramatically exit your life like they’re starring in a season finale…Door slam.Speech prepared.Voice shaking like they just discovered…
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There’s a special kind of addiction nobody talks about.Not coffee. Not sugar. Not scrolling until your thumb files for workers comp.I’m talking about being addicted to easy. Easy mornings.Easy choices.Easy conversations that avoid saying the thing that actually needs to be said. People want life to feel like a soft couch and a remote control.But…
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There’s a very specific kind of exhaustion that comes from being an overachiever with high emotional intelligence in a world that is… how do I say this kindly… aggressively committed to chaos. Not cute chaos. Not “oops I forgot my keys” chaos. I’m talking full-blown, juggling flaming swords while blindfolded and calling it a personality…
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People who had access to you never really understood how unavailable you were to the rest of the world… until they became the rest of the world. That version of you… it felt easy, didn’t it? Before all of this. Before the awareness.Before the language.Before you started dissecting your own existence like it was something…
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There was a timeyou could find me in the city—not lost… but loud. Moving fast enoughto mistake motion for meaning. Neon bleeding into the night,concrete holding the weightof a thousand restless souls,and I was one of them—heels on pavement,eyes always forward,hands always reachingfor something just out of grasp. Everything was there.Everything. At your fingertips, they…
