It Wasn’t Food Until She Stepped In It
“Do you know why this is food? Because I touched it. Because I stepped in it.” I didn’t forget
Confessions
These aren’t stories told about me. They’re stories told by me. When you see this tag, it means I stepped into the scene and spoke for myself—clearly, calmly, and without asking if you were ready. Some are memories. Some are declarations. All are irreversible. You’ll recognize the tone immediately. Fewer metaphors. Fewer apologies. Just structure. Truth. Control. I don’t use this voice often. But when I do, it’s because silence would’ve let you believe you still had a choice.
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