This is likely the last post. I am retiring this npub. Goodbye nostr.

It’s astonishing, and a little humbling, to realise how much of my sense of self depends on your presence — as though without you, the coordinates by which I navigate the world fall quietly out of place.

I don’t see ‘quiet’ used enough, because, unlike signals, noise is pushy. Yet it’s the silent structures beneath us that keep everything steady — the small loyalties, the unspoken reassurances, the steadying routines. They never ask for applause, but they are what keep a life from coming undone. For every boisterous outburst, there is a quieter confidence — the kind that doesn’t need to insist on itself to be felt.

Near‑death experiences bring a clarity we rarely access because they momentarily reorder our priorities. They remind us—sometimes brutally—that much of what we worry about is trivial, and much of what we postpone is essential. Humans live under a “veil of normality,” where routines and anxieties obscure the fragility of life. A brush with death tears that veil away. Suddenly, the real hierarchy of values becomes obvious: love, time, forgiveness, meaningful work, tenderness.

I like to believe that, in time, we’ll find our way back to one another, as we so often have — not out of habit, but because something in us still quietly belongs together.

From our thoughts, fears, uncertainties, and doubts, we project our judgments, yet we choose to share only judgments and not our truths. Why? People will go to any lengths, no matter how absurd, to avoid confronting their own souls.

A suicide attempt is a cry for recognition from someone who has concluded—wrongly but heartbreakingly—that their feelings have no safe place to land.

There’s a 17-year-old version of me that I’ve been neglecting for years, and he’s finally coming to collect.

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” — Maya Angelou

The barber told me to put moisturizer on my head because my scalp is too dry.

This is how many eggs I collected today:

80% recycled/renewable plastic? Pour it in the potholes. View quoted note →

There are no bitcoiners in a power outage.