"I didn’t choose the cold. Not at first. It crept in slowly, like silence after an argument - unspoken but deafening. The frost doesn’t lie. It strips everything down to the bone. No warmth, no comfort - just what remains when illusion is gone.

There’s a kind of knowing that comes only in the quiet. A clarity that doesn’t shout, doesn’t explain - it just is. But to hold it, I’ve had to let go of so much.

So I remain here, suspended between the need to be held and the need to disappear. I do not ask for answers. Only that the silence keep speaking to me, gently, until I can bear to listen again.

And maybe, one day, I’ll step back into the world. But I will never return the same. experience"

personal work