The weight of this Friday feels different as I sit amidst the rhythmic hum of the infusion pump—a sound that usually signals a personal battle, but today feels like a quiet backdrop to the echoes of the world. I am suspended in that rare, raw space where exhaustion meets clarity, where the lack of…

I woke up this Friday with an eerie weight in my chest. It wasn’t the fear of pain—I’ve grown accustomed to that. It was the sight of the infusion pump and those six needles waiting to be claimed by my abdomen. They are more than medical tools; they are cold, sharp reminders of helplessness.…

How do I explain to the seven-year-old inside me that we finally caught the lightning, but our hands weren’t meant to hold it? We spent a lifetime reaching, only to learn that some stars are more beautiful for their distance than their touch. I had a God complex , a belief that I could make lives…