writings

The thoughts haven't slowed, what changed is who I think I am inside them.

Point at your hand and you see your hand. Point at your face and the finger arrives at the room.

You stayed up running the numbers, certain that one more pass would settle it. Some questions were never built to settle.

Sometimes the question isn't looking for an answer, it's the shape avoidance takes when it learns to sound like searching.

Some pain isn't a malfunction, it's a measurement of how close you stood to something worth losing.

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.