The silence echoes and I’m getting used to how you speak. May you never break this peace.


Confined to bed

I had no choice but to be a prisoner to my thoughts. I was ill and I felt like my mind and body were unraveling, fast. For someone to have spent so much time stitching new threads to complete a bigger picture, it was utterly frustrating. The clock had unwound itself back to a time when I played in scraps and I found myself remodeling a version of me I thought had been gone for good.

I could not stand up to myself – emotionally or physically. When I decided to open my eyes, I was close, dangerously close to square one.


Even the lights look dim when the night is so dark. They hold themselves up like frail breaths, whispering warmth to those who’ll look hard enough to notice.