There is a man I have been dreaming about for the past week. He never has a face. It is always blurred, withheld, as if the universe is saving the reveal for later. But he has a scent. Forest soaked in saltwater, something clean, almost soil like with a trace
I have always said that I wasn’t afraid of anything. Not the dark, not ghosts, not danger. I grew up believing that fear belonged to other people, that it was something noisy and dramatic, something that announced itself loudly, demanded attention, and left visible marks behind. I never thought
When I met him, I had already learned how to live without wanting and without expecting. I wore that skill like a norm, something practiced for so long it no longer felt like defense but personality. Desire had been trained out of me. Hope felt inefficient. I had reached a
This will probably be the only piece on this blog where my tone sounds this personal. Most of the time I am more comfortable observing things from a distance than speaking directly about myself. I prefer dissecting patterns in people, culture, and belief rather than exposing the person behind the