The Quiet After The Storm
After a week of relying on others for even the smallest necessities, I finally find myself alone in a quiet house — the first real silence since the accident. I’m grateful, I’m hurting, and I’m oddly hopeful. This silence is a reminder of what freedom used to feel like, and what it might feel like again. But staying away from the anger that keeps clawing at me? That’s the struggle I face every damn day.
Servant To Self
The life of a writer is lonely—by choice. Solitude isn’t about shutting people out, it’s about diving deep into worlds and characters that demand every ounce of focus. This is why I disappear, and why I had to choose me.