Notes on patterns, aftermath, and the work of becoming someone who doesn't need the drama to feel alive.
How to flirt when someone might turn you into a paragraph.
When the world is on fire, do you still care about Love?
On aftermath, authority, and the work that begins after the ending
The cost of dating where everyone knows everyone
Prophecy is the cheapest comfort to manufacture
Grand gestures feel like slogans when you grow up under propaganda; love has to arrive honest, slow, and without a campaign.
How modern breakups get rebranded as decommissions—polite language masking clean, decisive exits.
The clean-life aesthetic is quietly starving our relationships. We cut carbs, cut drama, cut people—like decluttering a closet.
Therapy costs $200/hour. A trauma-informed yoga class? $40. Organic food to "heal your gut"? Your whole paycheck. Mental health has become luxury goods, and not everyone can afford the upgrade.
Inside the minds of people who can explain your pain but never change their behavior. They know exactly what they're doing—and that's the problem.
When you grow up on chaos, calm feels like disinterest. Stability feels like abandonment. Someone being good to you? That's suspicious.
I didn't choose this expertise. I survived it, dissected it, and learned to speak its language fluently.
One essay per week on heartbreak, minority stress, dating apps, and the psychology of staying too long.