This Is Me, Not Holding It Together
I’m not holding it together. I’m holding the wreckage. This isn’t about grace—it’s about survival. If you’ve ever been left to burn while someone else gets the clean escape, step into the ash with me.
When I Say I’m Not Okay, I Mean I’m Working Through It.
This isn’t a breakdown. It’s creation. This post is about what it means to grieve loudly, to create while healing, and to stay standing when everything inside you wants to fall. I’m not spiraling—I’m processing. And if you’ve ever felt like that, this one’s for you.
The Campfire Confession
What do you do when your buddy confesses—dead serious, stoned out of his mind—that his #1 bucket list item is to sleep with a little person? If you’re a real friend, you say, “Fuck it. I’ll help you.” This is the story of that night.
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