Writings

The exhaustion isn't from living, it's from pretending you were the one steering.

Happiness isn't false, it's just filed somewhere you stopped looking.

The people you know best are the ones you see least clearly, the sketch quietly replaced the person and you stopped checking.

The hum was never about the thing, the thing was just somewhere to point it.

Not every feeling is a message, some are just weather, and the trouble starts when you ask the rain what it wants from you.

You can spend years looking for what was already waiting wherever you finally stop.

The day didn't drain you. The argument you were having with it did.

Not the one in the photographs. The one who was here before you learned which parts of yourself to bring forward.