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The Beast That Forgot Its Leash

In every human, something crouches. Not a monster with claws and fangs. Something quieter. A beast that does not need to growl to be heard. It is hungry—not for food, but for power. For control. For the briefly warm feeling of being the one who decides. Suicide, strange as it sounds, becomes the only cage strong enough to keep this animal tamed. No law ever invented a whip that worked. No chain…

Roach–Infested Knowledge: A Bachelor's in Bullshit

School sits in the memory like a bad theory. The kind someone wrote on a napkin and called education. Poorly constructed. Even more poorly executed. The word poor slips from the mouth not as an insult but as a fact—soft and rotten, like maggots wriggling out of something that should have been buried years ago. Open a textbook and something scurries. Roaches. Not the kind that crawl. The kind…

Color Blind: The Bright Side of Loneliness

The first time they found you, everything came in color. Not the muted kind that hides in winter. The loud kind. The kind that makes a person squint and still cannot look away. So bright, the whole world went blind for a second—not from pain, but from sheer wonder at something that beautiful existing at all. You had built a hiding place. A shelter stitched from light and shadow, somewhere safe…

Naming Things Gives Leashes, Not Answers

The Bible was never meant to be a dictionary. Somewhere along the way, people forgot that. They started flipping through its pages like a manual for the universe, searching for definitions to things that refuse to be pinned down. But you cannot explain the stars by citing a verse. You cannot locate a black hole between Genesis and Revelation. Here is the truth they do not teach in Sunday school.…

The Hollow Has a Big Appetite

You want more in this life. Not in a greedy way. In a hungry way. The kind of hunger that sits at the back of the throat and never quite goes away. More money. More love. More time. Always more. Because whatever you have, it is never quite enough to fill the hollow. Don’t you want more too? You look at the other person, desperate for an answer that will make sense of the ache. And somehow,…

You Left the Lights On in Someone Else's Gaze

The eyes. Everyone calls them windows, but that has never felt right. A window suggests something on the other side—a view, a separation, a pane of glass you can clean or break. No, the eyes are not windows. They are abandoned homes. The kind with creaking floors and dusty furniture. Rooms you used to live in but forgot to lock on your way out. When you look into someone’s eyes long enough, you…

Solace in the Space Everyone Else Avoids

You try. And you try. And you try again. Like a fist knocking on a door that lost its handle years ago. And they try not to notice. That is the quiet agreement between you. You keep burning. They keep pretending the smoke does not sting their eyes. You are on fire. Not the dramatic kind with sirens and hoses. The slow kind. The kind that starts in the chest and spreads to the fingers, to the…

Gray Isn’t a Color But a Coping Mechanism

You never really liked the outdoors. Not because of the bugs or the weather or any of the usual excuses people give. Something else sat underneath that dislike. Something you could never quite name until now. It was the contradiction of it. That is what got under your skin. How the world outside could be so vibrant—all those greens and blues and golds—and still feel like a lie when the sun went…

Volcano Breath Held for Years—No Longer Waiting

Her eyes are not like ordinary fire. They are magma. Deep. Buried miles beneath the surface of who she pretends to be for strangers. A volcano that has been holding its breath for years, close enough to erupt that you can feel the heat from across the room. Bright like plasma ripped from the nearest star—not the gentle glow of a bedside lamp, but the kind of light that reminds you why people used…

Ghosts of Old Arguments Walk Tired Halls

Who they were no longer walks the earth. That version got left behind somewhere between one argument and the next. Or maybe it turned into a ghost—not the scary kind, the tired kind. A ghost you summoned on purpose. Not to chase out with holy water or a well-timed prayer. But to sacrifice. Quietly. On an altar made of silence and bad timing. Or maybe the cage simply opened. And the thing inside…

The Universe Doesn't Tilt for Humanity

Nature does not try to be tough. It just is. That is what makes it the real badass. No posturing. No speeches. It answers to no one—not the president, not the pope, not the person screaming at the sky. Wild in a way people can only stand at the edge of and admire from a safe distance. There is no concept of good or evil in a hurricane. No morality in a wildfire. A river does not wake up…

Before the Silence Grew Teeth, You Left

There was a version of you that existed once. Before. Before the phone calls got shorter. Before the silences grew teeth. That person no longer walks on solid ground. Or maybe they do, but only as a ghost. Something summoned for a specific purpose—not to be loved, but to be cast out. An exorcism dressed up as a conversation. When you finally touch again—if you ever do—something strange will…

The Quiet Howl: When Love’s Echo Learns to Live in the Walls Without You.

In this world they built together, the sound of a demon’s howl rattles every window. Not the kind with horns and hooves. The quiet kind. The one that wears a familiar face and speaks in a voice you once trusted. It howls so loud that a person cannot hear themselves screaming. Not at first. By the time the throat goes raw, the noise has already moved inside. Taken up residence. Made itself…

Brittle Fingers Still Know How to Hold

The limbs of a tree are brittle fingers. Not strong. Not graceful. They scratch at their own bark like frightened things—rats in a wall, small and desperate. They are not trying to leave scars. Just round holes. Small pockets to store the apples they carry when the cold comes breathing down their neck. A hand reaches for another hand. Not because it was told to. Not because it makes sense on…

Wounds That Learn to Speak Don't Need Microphones

Somewhere along the way, the ghost got forgotten. Not the kind that haunts hallways or rattles chains. The quiet kind. The one that grew too big inside the ribs, pressed against the lungs, and learned to live there. But the person kept breaking things instead of looking inward. Cups. Promises. Skin. Because breaking something feels like power. A cracked plate in the hand still looks like a…

A piece about finding oneself in the age of Social Media

#life #life issues #loneliness #social issues #social media

Check out this list of what you need to know about AI-powered headphones and which ones can best benefit you!

This article I wrote goes in-depth about AI-Powered Headphones.

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