The Cost of Independence
Because no matter how carefully I arrange the furniture of my independence, someone else always holds the key.
Because no matter how carefully I arrange the furniture of my independence, someone else always holds the key.
I believe in love. Not the easy kind, but the brave kind. The kind that asks us to risk disappointment and remain open anyway.
Sometimes the most important intervention is not a medication or a procedure, but belief. This story reflects on illness, autonomy, and the GP who listened when others would not.
I unpack the years, the loves, the losses, and tuck them away in cupboards and corners.
Sometimes the safest way to survive is not to be seen. A story of migration, belonging, and the strategies we develop to protect ourselves.
A poem written in my late teens about captivity, fear, and survival. Years later, it revealed a meaning I could never have imagined when I first wrote it.
We all build walls for a reason. The Fortress is a reflection on resilience, healing, and the moment we find the courage to step beyond them once more.