I wrestle daily with loneliness, meaning, and the realization that existence often feels like a single-player game. Let’s explore trauma, numbness, and the quiet question that appears when the world stops making promises. Ready player 1?
Posts tagged childhood trauma
Where Is I? |
A Return of the First Person
Some memories feel third person, like the memories of childhood trauma. Like the body was there but the narrator stepped out of the room. This poem moves through the strange, disjointed grammar of survival, where identity thins, fragments, and slowly rebuilds back into a voice strong enough to stand inside its own sentence.
Non-Personhood |
Memories of a Child Raised in a Blind Spot
I was an invisible child, shaped by abuse and neglect. I learned to disappear, to protect my sisters, and to survive a household that couldn’t give me what I needed. This is my story of anger, memory, and reclaiming the self I was taught not to have.
I Am Broken |
Rewriting a Life Shaped by Invalidation
A raw exploration of what it means to feel broken, to realize the damage was never inherent. In this piece I dig through childhood pressure, inherited wounds, and the unreliable narratives we carry. It’s a reclamation of identity, a study of echoes, and a quiet rewriting of the self.
The Wrong Play
I’ve spent my life pretending to be someone else — an engineer, a writer, a version of me that fits what others expected. But when I write, I feel the edges of who I really am, even if the words don’t make sense. This is what it means to question your memories, your past, and your place in the world — and to keep writing anyway.