A subjective philosophy of a self-proclaimed oracle of Palo Alto
When I was six, I had an imaginary friend named Flora. She wasn’t like the other kids’ imaginary friends—no silly animal hybrids or invisible pals who liked to fly. Flora was nine years old and carried the solemn wisdom of
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People talk about forgiveness like it’s the end of something. A final note. A clean cut. But most of the time, it’s a placeholder. A decision we make when we know we’re not getting the thing we actually want: an
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Friendship, for me, has never been about volume. It’s about density. It’s about the people who can hold your silences without asking if something is wrong. The ones who don’t need constant proof that you still care. The ones who
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There’s a version of healing that looks suspiciously like self-erasure. Not growth. Not integration. Just a slow sanding down of everything that once made you vivid. Sharp edges, moods, protective instincts, inconvenient intensity. Gone. In their place: a gentle smile,
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Do you like horror stories? Here is one. I’ve always believed the greatest enemy one can face is not some external force, but the reflection in the mirror, the relentless inner voice that whispers, cajoles, and ultimately commands. This voice
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Time has never felt linear to me. I don’t mark it by birthdays or calendars or the ever-mounting list of holidays we’re expected to care about. I measure it in ruptures. In before and afters. In sharp turns, silences, and
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