Long-form essays on work, identity, psychology, isolation, and the human experience. These pieces blend personal reflection, cultural critique, and philosophical wandering into narrative-driven writing that values honesty over polish.
I worked for a company that proudly employed LGBTQ+ people while quietly forbidding any public support of them. As the social media manager, I was told to delete a Pride post because it might “upset the board.” This is what corporate neutrality looks like from the inside.
Think your pickup truck is just a truck? Think again. If your truck bed has never hauled anything heavier than bags of mulch, you might be an asshole. Let’s explores how trucks, SUVs, and our other “just-in-case” purchases reveal more about ego and self-delusion than actual utility.
I didn’t start cutting people out of my life as an adult. I learned it young. This essay explores how childhood divorce, forced self-reliance, and emotional withdrawal slowly morphed into a lifelong habit of distancing I didn’t recognize until much later.
I wrestle daily with whether my writing is good or shit. Most of the time, I write into a quiet vacuum, unsure if it matters at all. Yet the act itself—struggling, digging, pinning down fleeting thoughts—feels alive. It’s writing for me, for discovery, for sentences that exist anyway.
I’ve lived most of my adult life with the sense that I won’t grow old. At least not in the average sense we’re led to expect. Chronic illness taught me early that bodies fail quietly and often without warning. This isn’t an essay about dying. It’s about surviving, mistrusting the future, and refusing to lie about it.
