Some people outrun their pain with noise and movement. I’ve never been built that way. I tend to sit with it – sometimes because it feels honest, sometimes because I don’t know what else to do. There’s no virtue in that. It’s just the shape of my wiring. Pain doesn’t get smaller when ignored; it just gets creative. So I let it stand in the doorway until it stops insisting on being the whole story. And maybe that’s all this is: a moment that hurts, a breath that tightens, and me, not looking away.

We watched over you.
We fed you, protected you, kept you warm.
And still, you were gone before I could understand why.
Some losses make no sense, carry no lesson, ask no forgiveness.
I sit with the weight anyway.

I want to step back.
I want others to step up.
But my nervous system has learned –
“If I step back, things fall apart.”
So I end up carrying more than I want, resenting the load, and then judging myself for resenting it.
That’s the cycle.

Sometimes the weight you carry is only visible to you. Effort to keep things steady is interpreted as fussing. Plans to make space for connection look like complaining. And yet, ignoring a problem does not make it disappear  – it just gathers force in the dark. So I sat by the stream, because I could  – and that was enough for now.

Working a week and a half each month gives me a better life than working full-time ever did.
The tradeoff was simplicity, which is what I wanted anyway.

I’ve always wanted to live on a farm or a tropical island and have many dogs. Now I have all these things, and none of it was really planned.

I didn’t “manifest” it or hustle for it. It just unfolded in its own strange way.

Life is weird. Sometimes things fall into place when you stop trying so hard to control them.

I finally posted it – the first TikTok, the self-introduction I kept putting off.
The delay wasn’t fear or perfectionism – just the quiet weight of starting something that felt both meaningless and important.
A ritual pause, a pause long enough to feel like a crossing.
Now it’s done, and that’s enough.

We were on our way somewhere, and I didn’t have a clean shirt, so we stopped at the ukay‑ukay to grab one. I got a green T-shirt with black lettering that said vetemens. At first, I had no idea what it meant. I thought it might be some weird misspelling of vitamins – and that was already funny enough – but today I looked it up and discovered it literally just means “clothing” in French. Suddenly, I loved it even more – it’s like wearing a shirt that just says shirt.

A bit more digging revealed it’s actually a high-end, post‑ironic brand I didn’t even know existed and could not care less about. The shirt originally retailed for hundreds of dollars, and I got it for 20 pesos.

And that’s what makes it perfect: a luxury shirt mocking fashion, worn by someone completely clueless – designer’s joke and accidental participant collide, making it even funnier.

I almost bought a goat last week.
I was going to name her Rebecca Black because it was Friday.
But apparently goats don’t eat the grass I wanted her to eat.
So now I’m just a guy with a name and no goat.

I look a little wilder than I did a year ago.
Less polished. Rougher.
I didn’t become someone new.
I just stopped managing the presentation.