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7 stories found
I used to think becoming someone began the day I finally knew who I was. I was waiting for the finished version of me. Now I believe becoming is smaller and quieter: unfinished, not broken, not late, and refusing to abandon yourself along the way.
Every small sacrifice they made became a hidden blessing throughout a person’s life.
A short reflection on how *Mischief Makers*, one of my own stories, began as a simple thought and slowly grew into a world of characters, chaos, and stories. It’s about the strange journey of turning an idea that existed only in my head into something real.
The Empathy I Thought Trauma Took From Me. “I have no time” — that’s the only complaint she lets herself keep. One sip of tea before the crying starts. Breakfast gulped down before it’s tasted. A kitchen half-finished, a rice pot whistling, a list that never ends. And when the black blanket finally spreads over the sky, she sits down — still uncompleted, still behind — and her only prayer is that tomorrow might be a little longer. She didn’t know to open her eyes. The sun had already risen.
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