Sun, 21 Dec 2025 01:44:48 +0000

It's 3:25am, and I'm awake thinking about an essay I need to write.
This is the compulsion. It's there at my printing press, putting my kids to bed, trying to fall asleep.
Some days I know what to write and avoid it for weeks. Because it means going back to a version of myself I've worked hard to move past.
Once you commit to raw honesty, you can't go back.
But every difficult memory I've excavated has connected me to someone else who felt the same thing.
That's worth every sleepless night.