life
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There comes a point where the noise stops working on you. Not because it got quieter…but because you finally realized it was never in control to begin with. Forget the conspiracy theories. Forget the hidden hands, the secret rooms, the whispered narratives meant to pull your attention outward. That’s the distraction. That’s the illusion of…
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There comes a moment when the mirror stops asking questions…and starts demanding answers. Not the kind you rehearsed.Not the kind shaped by approval, softened for comfort, or filtered through who they needed you to be. The real ones.The ones that shake something loose in your chest when you say them out loud. Show them who…
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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…
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There’s a certain kind of person that walks into a room already expecting it to adjust to them. Not because they’ve earned it. Not because they’ve built anything worth adjusting for. Just because they believe it should. You can feel them before they even speak. They carry this quiet demand in their chest like the…
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There’s a strange thing about people who can’t move on. They don’t leave.Not physically. Not energetically. Not mentally. They just… reposition themselves. They stand outside windows that don’t belong to them anymore, convincing themselves they still recognize the furniture inside. They narrate lives they are no longer part of.They build entire stories off fragments they…
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You keep calling it life. I call it a loop. You wake up, replay the same story, tell yourself the same excuses, wear the same pain like it’s a badge you earned instead of a chain you refuse to cut. You call it chaos like it’s something happening to you, like you’re not the one…
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There’s a seat that not everyone earns.Front row. Close enough to see the sweat, the cracks, the tremble in someone’s voice when the act starts slipping. You’re sitting there. Not participating. Not reacting. Not jumping on stage to “save” anything that was never yours to fix. Just watching. And on that stage… chaos dressed up…
