For as long as I can remember, I’ve experienced my psyche as a kind of bubble — my personal field where everything around
As a sixth-grade student in a small school in
Years later, in the middle of another season of treatments, recovery, and medical bills, I picked up my brushes again.
The strokes were uneven, the colors sometimes heavy, sometimes fragile — but they were mine.
I realized that flaws are
A thousand fears, failures, and disappointments later, I’m here — carefully held in His arms, looked after and cared for.
My confidence is in the Word of God and all His promises for me, not my circumstances, not the actions
The beginning of the end.
Day 91 of 100.
I’m not satisfied.
It feels like I barely scratched the surface. I feel this because I stopped exploring academic writing, copy writing, technical writing, and other forms like I had initially
