The day had been both a triumph and a test. I woke before dawn, chose better living through chemistry in the form of an ADHD medication I take sparingly, as needed, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt whole-clear, steady, deeply myself. I had Levi with me and we floated through the hours with no screens, no noise. Just sunlight, stillness, the pool, the swing, a book, a nap, presence. It felt like I had stepped through a veil into the life I’ve been praying for. I made dinner. I sparkled inside. I told my significant other, “This may be the most perfect day I’ve ever had.”
He turned on the show 1923.
And just like that, it ruptured. Not because I was fragile or overreacting. Because I was resonating at such a high frequency-and to be met with the deadening hum of normalized suffering that mirrors the chaos, hopelessness, and death in the current world around me, it was like being slammed into another dimension. I had just returned from Eden and watching men slaughter each other and a pregnant woman freezing to death on TV didn’t feel neutral or like anything closely resembling entertainment. It felt like betrayal. Of my nervous system, my values, my energy, my hard-fought serenity. It was violent, bleak, and soaked in sorrow plunging me back into the state I have been clawing my way to escape from. And after many hints, after all the beauty I’d been holding with trembling hands, it felt like a slap from the world I try every day to survive.
A world I pray through, sing through, grit through.
I broke. Not just from the show, but from the weight of trying so hard to stay in the light while the darkness keeps demanding my gaze.
I left the room in a fury. I wept. I left the house.
And thatâs when the other world came calling againâ
in the form of a single star
and a white spider
who stopped me from making a wish
because maybe, just maybeâ
Iâd already made it with my life.
V is 4 Voice 
It can be so very hard to choose what we react to
LikeLike