personal writing
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“The man Who Always Looked Up”
As a child, severe asthma often sent me to the emergency room before sunrise. Years later, I found myself standing beneath the biggest tree I could find, remembering something my mother once told me about peace. Continue reading
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“The Empty Chair”
Growing up, my grandmother was one of the most important people in my life. Years after she passed away, I finally understood why one chair at our family table remained empty—and what it meant to my mother. Continue reading
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“A Different Kind of Tired.”
This whole week I was a different kind of tired. Not work tired. Rumination tired. The kind of exhaustion that comes from circling the same thoughts over and over without resolution. Continue reading
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“Fuck the Routine”
I’m sitting here again — watching TV, typing, half-listening to Shawn Ryan talk about leaks and influencer payouts meant to steer Americans in different directions. Could it be true? Maybe. Who knows. It’s fun to wonder. Simba’s behind me, stretched across my headrest, waiting for our nightly walk — patient as ever, wearing his little… Continue reading