The unreliable narrator has been busy. I’ve been taking my little notebook out into the world, writing down some of the ridiculous things my brain tries to convince me are facts, and photographing them wherever I happen to be. It’s a strange little exercise. Some of the notes are funny once they’re out of my…
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I can feel a grey veil falling over my mind. It sounds lyrical and perhaps beautiful. Like a classical sculpture of a human, sat in a reflective pose, with the most delicate of carving of a veil over their head. Pretty words framing a upcoming miserable period as something aesthetic. Clearly it’s not. But it’s…
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Yesterday I discovered I couldn’t remember which of two films we’d watched first. Not the first film we’d ever watched together. Just the first of two films we’d watched on that day. It wasn’t even an especially important detail. If somebody else had forgotten it, I wouldn’t have thought twice. But there I was, staring…
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At the end of July I did a sport thing. Here are the photos. I have mixed feelings about it, but I did do it and I do have a medal and finishers shirt!
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I dyed my hair blue. A few weeks later I found myself wondering whether that meant I should be buying blue yarn too. An essay about masking, identity, neurodivergent rule-making, and learning that not every preference needs to become a personality.
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A reflective essay on happiness, hypervigilance, and the slow accumulation of small good things. On emotional support coffee, magpies, Florence + the Machine, and learning that joy sometimes arrives not as transformation, but as the gradual reduction of panic.
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A reflective essay on magpies, folklore, loneliness, and the quiet discovery that companionship keeps appearing anyway. On inherited pessimism, avian goblins, and learning not to stop the count too early.
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It’s one of the more interesting things to happen to pop punk sincerity in years. Most people would probably dismiss I Fight Dragons as another nerd-adjacent power-pop band built for people who own at least one hoodie with thumb holes and complicated opinions about retro gaming hardware. But that’s reducing them unfairly. What they’re actually…
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A reflective essay about hypervigilance, conscious choice, and the exhausting habit of constantly checking whether your feelings, routines, and relationships still genuinely belong to you. On drift, devotion, and learning to trust your own instruments again.
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It wasn’t even a big comment. That’s part of the problem.Not an argument. Not a confrontation. Just a sentence, dropped into conversation, the kind of thing that should have passed through me without leaving much of a mark. Except it didn’t.It caught, somewhere inconvenient, and now it’s here. Again.This happens more often than I’d like…
