If there were a biography about me, the title would be: “What the Fuck.”
My life feels like a car accident. Like the car got folded into a million pieces—origami metal.
And now I’m trying to unfold it back into something that looks smooth again. Something that runs. Something that makes sense. Not pretending the crash didn’t happen… just rebuilding the shape.
Question: What would your biography be called—and what “wreck” are you rebuilding right now?
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