Previous and current works will be posted in no particular order unless they relate to each other, which will be noted. Bear in mind some of these works will deal with topics such as childhood trauma and mental illness, so if that's not your cup of tea or you simply aren't in a place to read that sort of thing, best to skip this page for now.
The working title of this one is simply "Obituary" and was written on October 25, 2025:
You’ve said before that I deserved all those things you did.
Told me that you’ve never said those things I remember so clearly, as though they were yesterday.
How can I be sure of anything when you tell me these things that cannot coexist?
I remember your hands upon my face, yet you tell me I must be mistaken.
I remember the way you ripped me apart and left me scattered on the floor, but you say I only reap what I sow.
What then is it that you have sown, for I have yet to see you reap.
They say we are built on our past, but what even is my past when I constantly question what really happened?
I do not know what I can be certain of, other than this gaping wound that you refuse to acknowledge, leaving me to bleed upon this page that you will never see or know.
I want to turn back time, tell that scared child I am only half-certain of that it will get better.
But that is impossible.
It hasn’t gotten better.
Instead, I write this obituary to what might have been, and to the past I have been denied.