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Sometimes forever is the inability to let go. You give someone so much of yourself that devotion starts to feel like disappearance.

This piece lives in that space between loving someone and losing yourself.

Sometimes forever is the inability to let go. You give someone so much of yourself that devotion starts to feel like disappearance.

This piece lives in that space between loving someone and losing yourself.

Sometimes forever is the inability to let go. You give someone so much of yourself that devotion starts to feel like disappearance.

This piece lives in that space between loving someone and losing yourself.

The conversation ends. What it left behind stays.

This piece is about the things you keep hearing after everyone else has gone quiet.

The conversation ends. What it left behind stays.

This piece is about the things you keep hearing after everyone else has gone quiet.

The conversation ends. What it left behind stays.

This piece is about the things you keep hearing after everyone else has gone quiet.

The lie that there is a final version of you who will never be rejected, confused, or hurt. You keep checking, editing, and watching yourself, trying to find the flaw that explains why you do not feel okay.

But the question never closes. You keep reopening it because perfection feels like it might finally make you safe.

The lie that there is a final version of you who will never be rejected, confused, or hurt. You keep checking, editing, and watching yourself, trying to find the flaw that explains why you do not feel okay.

But the question never closes. You keep reopening it because perfection feels like it might finally make you safe.

A crown you wear because it looks like strength, certainty, or being chosen. But it is glass: beautiful, fragile, and sharp enough to hurt the person carrying it.

The lie is that the crown protects you. It does not. You make the pressure feel sacred because admitting it is hurting you would mean putting it down.

You hide from the truth until your own face feels unfamiliar. After living inside the lie for too long, you cannot recognize the person who has been keeping it alive.

The piece is about avoidance, self-erasure, and the distance between your body and your sense of self.

You got up. You answered. You did what you had to do. None of that means it stopped hurting.

This piece is about carrying pain through an ordinary day, and trying to make something out of it.

You got up. You answered. You did what you had to do. None of that means it stopped hurting.

This piece is about carrying pain through an ordinary day, and trying to make something out of it.

You keep calling something beautiful because admitting it has become lonely, unhealthy, or over would make it real. The garden stays alive in your head while the real thing quietly dies.

The lie is: if it still looks beautiful, it cannot be hurting me.

You keep calling something beautiful because admitting it has become lonely, unhealthy, or over would make it real. The garden stays alive in your head while the real thing quietly dies.

The lie is: if it still looks beautiful, it cannot be hurting me.

You keep calling something beautiful because admitting it has become lonely, unhealthy, or over would make it real. The garden stays alive in your head while the real thing quietly dies.

The lie is: if it still looks beautiful, it cannot be hurting me.

You keep calling something beautiful because admitting it has become lonely, unhealthy, or over would make it real. The garden stays alive in your head while the real thing quietly dies.

The lie is: if it still looks beautiful, it cannot be hurting me.

Some days, absence takes up the whole room. You learn to carry it without knowing where to put it down.

A piece for what stays with you after something is gone.

Some days, absence takes up the whole room. You learn to carry it without knowing where to put it down.

A piece for what stays with you after something is gone.

Only cry in the day. Let the feeling exist where people can see it.

A name for the part of you that is tired of pretending everything is fine.

Only cry in the day. Let the feeling exist where people can see it.

A name for the part of you that is tired of pretending everything is fine.

There are versions of yourself you only became to be loved. Eventually, you have to ask which parts are still yours.

A piece about finding yourself underneath someone else’s expectations.

There are versions of yourself you only became to be loved. Eventually, you have to ask which parts are still yours.

A piece about finding yourself underneath someone else’s expectations.

You meant it when you said you would stay. Even when staying began to cost you.

This piece asks what a promise becomes when you keep it longer than you can keep yourself.

You meant it when you said you would stay. Even when staying began to cost you.

This piece asks what a promise becomes when you keep it longer than you can keep yourself.