essays

as the new year drew to a close, i was mulling over my own creative suffering. so many endless projects, drafts i’ve been meaning to finish. all of them raw and outdated, embarrassing really, glaringly different from everything i imagined my art would look like. i lay on my bed, scattered papers and all, trying…

and all that was left of my autonomy, and I barely realised. From what I can remember, I used to be fun. I used to have ideas. I used to be the one coming up with weird adventures and drink cocoa in parks at 3 am. And eat pizzas on a weeknight in the city.…

i’ve been walking (again) and thought about this phrase, it’s darkest before dawn. and it struck me (again) how i have followed this pattern all my life, how i always want to back away just before i’m finished. i do the dishes and want to back away at the last plate, i write an exam…

the sentence comes and goes freely now, ingrained in my brain. i walk and toy with the idea. i imagine it taking shape and hovering over me like a shadow i can’t shed. the more you have, the more you have. i see it like it’s right in front of me, my laptop filled with…