Dept.

This one isn’t loud.
It’s messy, scratched, half-there  just like real thoughts.

Looks unfinished on purpose.
Because clarity doesn’t come clean.
It comes after confusion, overthinking, and sitting with stuff longer than you wanted to.

The lines feel random, but they aren’t.
They’re movement.
They’re the noise in your head when you’re trying to figure yourself out and still show up.

No meaning forced.
No explanation needed.
If you get it, you get it.

Some days are sharp.
Some days are quiet.
Both count.

Fullstop.