My Brain Thinks It’s a Game Show: Why I Can Only Work in Manufactured Time Crunches

There are people who can calmly open their planner on Monday morning, look at the week ahead, and just… do the things. They pace themselves. They distribute their energy like rational beings. They schedule in breaks and actually take them.

I am not those people.

The Menstrual Plot Twist No One Warned Me About

I thought I was done. I thought I had graduated. My last period was in May. M-A-Y. Do you know how good that felt? I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t wistful. I wasn’t clinging to some symbolic loss of womanhood. I was ecstatic. I was strutting around like I had completed a fucking boss level. "She’s crispy now," I said. “She has transcended.”

Shiver Shot - The Lord of Null

There were whispers in the binary.

An undulating hiss beneath the hum of servers and the click of keystrokes. Miles of code pulsed through my screen like veins through pale, digital flesh. I stared too long, too deeply, until the reflection of my own face in the monitor blurred and bled into a new one—sharper, darker, touched by flame and shadow.

Paper-Cut Resurrection: My Return to the Planner That Bleeds

Six years.

That’s how long I clung to the digital. Six years of to-do lists tucked into pixels, apps with perfectly color-coded blocks of ambition, task managers that promised clarity and delivered overwhelming lists of things I didn’t want to do. It worked, kind of. Until it didn’t.