I Was Good. It Almost Killed Me.
Witty Banter Well Happy New Year!!! It’s been a while since I last wrote, and I’d like to pretend that absence was intentional, artistic silence, creative gestation, all that romantic nonsense. In reality, I was busy being good. Good at not speaking up. Good at not reacting. Good at letting things slide until they stacked high enough to press against my lungs. So yes, I’m back. Slightly hollowed out, mildly feral, and writing again because ignoring thoughts has never actually killed them, only taught them how to rot quietly. Today’s blog comes with no moral uplift, no neat takeaway, and definitely no comfort. If you’re looking for inspiration, this is not that. If you’re looking for something that crawls under your skin and stays there, welcome. We’re talking about goodness. The praised kind. The inherited kind. The kind that smiles while tightening its grip around your throat. Let’s begin before it finishes the job. How I Was Taught That Silence Is a Virtue (And Pain Is Just Part of t...
