A quiet ache between music and stillness.
Tag: unfinished rooms
Heavy Closeness
This piece is an exploration of what it means to grow up without room to breathe; in a house full of bodies, objects, noise, and unspoken rules. It’s a story about learning closeness before I ever learned space. About how love can feel like suffocation when your childhood taught you to shrink instead of exist. I return to the fragments of myself I once abandoned; the little girl who didn’t have a corner of the bed, the teenager who walked until the panic left her chest, the woman who craves intimacy but fears being swallowed by it. This is my attempt to press play again. To rebuild the home inside me. To stay this time. To breathe.
Held in Chaos
The room was humming low - Laughter in fragments, glasses clinking, the soft shuffle of people waiting for something they couldn’t name, the air smelling like whiskey and wanting. She found a spot up front, close enough to see the shine of the stage lights … Continue reading Held in Chaos
Two Sundays
Writer’s Note: This piece reflects the stillness and ache of memory. It's about the kind of love that shapes us even after it ends. It lives inside specific moments, like Sundaymornings, and becomes an enduring part of us. I wrote this with brutal honesty, blending … Continue reading Two Sundays
Unfinished Rooms 