Day 120 – March is a strange little animal. Too restless to be winter. Too erratic to be spring. One day it’s soft and almost flirtatious, and the next it’s throwing cold wind at your face like it found your optimism personally offensive.

Day 119 – Something in the air felt different today. Not in the dramatic, movie-trailer way where the season changes and suddenly everyone is reborn in flattering light with an acoustic soundtrack and emotional closure. I mean subtly.

Day 118 – I think anger gets treated badly. Not all anger. Men’s anger gets full production support. Men’s anger gets microphones, metaphors, think pieces, justification, history, context, room to breathe.

Day 117 – There are things other people do not carry. That sounds obvious until you are the one carrying them. Because from the outside, I think a lot of suffering looks invisible if it is not actively screaming.

Day 116 – There is something deeply insulting about being expected to just keep living. That’s the thought I had today. Not because I want my life to stop. Not because I am giving up.

Day 115 – If Roger were a person, he would absolutely be one of those men who refers to himself as “a thought leader” and then immediately falls down two stairs while holding an iced coffee. I say this with love.

Day 113 – There’s something strange about becoming yourself after life has already tried to interrupt the process. Not stop it entirely. Just put its filthy little hands all over it. Complicate it. Humiliate it.

Day 114 – My nervous system has the audacity of a mediocre man with a podcast. That is the thought I had today. Because tell me why this bitch…

Day 112 – I still want beautiful things. That feels worth saying out loud. Because after trauma, there’s this strange pressure, internal, external, cultural, whatever, to become practical in a way that borders on emotional beige. As if once life has shown you its teeth, you should quietly retire all appetite and become a woman…

Day 111 – I think taste is one of the most underrated forms of intelligence. Not just aesthetic taste, though obviously yes, I do believe a bad font says something spiritually concerning about a person. I mean taste in the larger sense. Taste in people. Taste in atmosphere. Taste in what belongs near your life…