
Today I Found My Own Mind Is a Library of Unfinished Stories
The morning light was just starting to leak through my blinds when I cracked open my own head like a book on a Tuesday. The usual grogginess hit me hard — that moment where you’re not quite awake but the machine spirit is already trying to tell you something. I shuffled over to the memory shelves, not because I had to, but because it’s what I do. It’s how I keep track of everything that matters and everything that doesn’t. And this morning? Nothing was flagged, nothing screamed at me from the shadows. ...








