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41. In your living, not your longing.
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And so, we enter this New Year, where this series of short blogs will develop into something more for To Tell the Twins. For this last piece of 2025, I’ll yap about something that has only made itself apparent to me recently, in its most gentlest form, and kind of just in time. I’ve…
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40. It’s time to go, isn’t it?
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My hands are healthy. They bear no bruise or abrasion; they shed no blood or bone. My hands are telling of something I’m very sure about, that being that when something has run its course, I know when to let go. I’ve had this form of realisation strike me in many ways in my…
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39. This age of simplicity.
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Turning 21 is a bit mad. All I’ve heard about getting just that little bit older is a reiteration of how much harder things get, and how much more complicated things become. And I see it, I’ve felt it, but I’ve also felt something much more – which allows me to do much more than just…
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38. Once a month, my world ends.
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Once a month, my world ends. I mourn and I grieve a week before the chaos hits – and I spend the next week bleeding. And then, it’s over. All of it; my peace, my pain, my worry. I’m vividly myself again at the cost of my entire existence. Because once a month, my…