There are objects in my life that have outlived the relationship they came from. Not because I forgot to throw them away. Not because I am holding on. They simply remained. A sweater hanging among my clothes. A leather jacket folded neatly in a cabinet. A bookmark resting between pages I have long since reread.... Continue Reading →
Living in the Fog: In the Silence Between Who I Am and Who Was There
For months, I kept silent. Not because I wanted to hide, but because I didn’t understand. I didn't have the words to explain why entire afternoons would slip away without memory. Why, sometimes, I would look in the mirror and not recognize myself. Why I would float above conversations, watching myself speak as if I were someone else. Why my world would suddenly feel dreamlike, muffled, distant. And why, despite it all, I kept telling myself: “Maybe I’m just tired.”
