I’ve never really found a way to express myself in a positive way that also reaches others. For years, I’ve thought about finding an outlet for my feelings and reflections— a space where my words could live outside of arguments on the internet, which always left me feeling frustrated and unseen. What I want instead is a place that can build connection, honesty, and maybe even a sense of community.
This Substack is that beginning.
I’m not here to perform or to package my life into something glossy. I’m here to write about what feels real: fragments, reflections, memory, and meaning. Sometimes heavy, sometimes tender, often complicated.
I don’t come as an expert or as someone with everything figured out. I come as a queer, neurodivergent woman; a nurse who thinks too much about systems and humanity; a caretaker to the ones I love most; someone who struggles and searches and still believes that small acts of honesty matter.
If you’ve found your way here, I hope these words give you something— a pause, a moment of recognition, or just the reminder that we’re not as alone as we sometimes feel.
This is the start. Not perfect, but true. And that feels like enough.
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