Topic

The Deepest Layer

This is where the core lies—the inner layer, the scarred layer. These are the stories and reflections shaped by the people who made me, for better or worse. Here, I write of family: my mother, my father, my brother, my son. Of love, loss, longing, and the marks they leave behind. These are the pieces of home I carry with me, etched in memory and shaped by time. They are raw, imperfect, and utterly mine.

Shattered Glass

I set the table for a feast that never was, laid out silverware of hope, glasses brimming with almosts, candles flickering in a draft I should have sensed. I invited certainty, but it declined, sent regret instead, draped in my brother’s voice, in the darkness of doors that won’

The Ceaseless Tide

If one more email pings at night, one more voice pulls at the fray, another demand—a fire alight, another shout to “do” or “pay”— I swear I’ll burst, shatter, break, with tempers caged and silence gone, crushed by the weight others place, on this thin, trembling thread. Each

Off with Her Hair!

If I cut my hair, will they call me mad, will they see the fracture running through me? If I slice it all away, every strand gone, can I be un-born, can I un-write this life— scrub away the stains, redo that house as if it were ours, a place

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