The hardest part of writing today’s essay was the part where I had to admit I do the same thing I'm wounded by.

The wound: people pre-decide who I am without bringing the curiosity my architecture requires, and that lands as carelessness even when no one intended it.

The mirror: I pre-decide who they are. I refuse to bid for recognition because I've already concluded the bid won't work. Then I sit in the silence and call it their incapacity.

The wound is real. But the mirror is mine to own. Both can be true at once, and that's the part I've been working on naming for months.

I Sit on the Island is live now. Check it out if you’re still building the bridge to reach others.