life
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Right now…somewhere…someone I helped is sitting in a group chat like they’re on a TED Talk tour…telling people I’m a bad person. And I just know they’re dramatic about it too.Voice notes.Typos.Probably pacing. Meanwhile… I’m over here…refreshing flight deals like it’s a spiritual practice…waiting for the day I hear: “This is your pilot speaking…” Because…
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He didn’t wake up one day and say, “Today feels like a great day to unpack decades of emotional damage.” No. He woke up hungover, annoyed, and weirdly aware that his life kept repeating like a bad episode nobody asked to rewatch. Same arguments. Same women. Same ending. Different names. Same script. And somewhere between…
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I used to think “the one who got away” was just something guys said to sound deep at bars while holding a beer they weren’t even drinking. Then I met her. And suddenly every other woman felt like a group project where I did all the work and still got a C. She was the…
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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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There are two people in this story. One is living their life. The other is watching it like it’s a full-time job they don’t get paid for. They don’t talk.They don’t interact.There’s no connection, no conversation, no invitation. Just observation. One minding their business…and the other minding that business like it belongs to them. Now…
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Let me go ahead and clear something up before the story gets twisted at family dinners and Facebook comments… I didn’t end up in Texas. I chose Texas. Loud. Proud. Possibly a little dramatic about it. And if you ask me why, I’ll give you a different answer every time depending on how much coffee—or…
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Let me paint this properly. Not the polished version. The real one. It’s mid-morning at one of those cafés where people pretend they like black coffee because it sounds disciplined. Soft music. Laptops open. Everyone performing productivity like it’s a personality trait. And then there’s him. Sitting at a corner table like he didn’t get…
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There are bad days…And then there are the days where your brain wakes up, cracks its knuckles, and says,“Alright… today we spiral.” You know the ones. You spill your coffee, your hair won’t cooperate, and suddenly your mind goes,“Hey… remember… your name makes someone out there absolutely lose their shit.” And instead of feeling powerful,…
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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 time when “they” ran everything in your world. They made the rules.They set the limits.They controlled the outcomes. “They” was the reason things didn’t work out.“They” was the excuse that made the weight easier to carry.“They” was the invisible wall you kept running into… over and over again. And for a while……
