The First Time You Felt Like a Fraud
The Moment You Spoke Anyway
I speak even when my voice shakes.
You’ll find me in the quietest corner of a crowded space, holding tea like it’s an anchor. I know the weight of doubt, the hollowness behind the ribs when the world feels too loud. But I’ve learned to carry that fear like an old coat—notice it, name it, and still walk into the light.
What I'm Into: borrowed chairs, projector hum, dry-erase marker scent, dust motes in midday light, the breath before an answer
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