Life is too short to find the matching sock. Too short to wait in the queue. Too short to scroll every feed, to watch every movie, to go to every game. Life is too short to miss her when she’s gone. Too short to work for a fancy car,
Small Truths
3 posts
Tiny truths and quiet fictions. Lines that refuse to stay still.
Posts tagged with Small Truths
It was Sunday dinner at the House of Human Folly, and the siblings were already at war. “Let’s get this straight,” said Pain, sawing at his steak like it owed him money. “I am the cornerstone of human culture. Without me, there’s no art, no wisdom, no growth.
Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Oh no. I forgot my phone. My chest tightens like a fist. Heat rushes to my face. My hands are shaking. Pockets—left, right, jacket, bag— empty. Again. Again. No. No no no no. My heart is pounding too hard, like it’s trying to break
Dispatches from The Edge.
Fragments, essays, and experiments—delivered into your hands. Some whole. Some still becoming. All alive.