I am grateful you are here and reading with such openness. It is a privilege to walk people toward writers whose work is doing real interior work in the world. Thank you for saying this, and for allowing the exchange to feel mutual.
I say this from a very humble place, thank you for shining a light on writers who are through words evolving, transcending and simply becoming.
I write in the quiet moments, in the dark when fear constantly says hello, but my entire thesis here is 'I didn’t leave because I stopped caring. I left because I finally cared enough'.
Thank you for writing something that shows many that you care enough to really digest and not just read the words. I can tell you let it sit within you.
Thank you Gaby, I recognize that place you write from, the quiet and the dark where doubt makes itself too familiar. What you shared here carries a generosity that feels earned. I am glad Drop 9 made room for you, and even more glad your voice continues to find its way forward. Keep going at your own pace.
Thank you for sharing my piece with such depth and care. The way you articulated its spirit honestly moved me you didn’t just summarize it, you expanded it. I’m grateful for how thoughtfully you positioned the ideas, especially your point about nihilism as a threshold rather than an ending. Truly honored to have my work presented in your publication.
I thought I responded directly to your comment, forgive me.
Your work met me in that delicate place where thinking becomes feeling. I didn’t want to paraphrase it. I wanted to honor its architecture, the way you build meaning from the edges where most people look away. Your framing of nihilism as a beginning instead of an ending stayed with me long after reading.
You don’t skim for meaning. You let it work on you. And you’re right about the price. Enduring becomes a habit so familiar we mistake it for strength, until the body finally refuses to collapse any further.
There are those moments in time where there's no skimming and no slow working on you and instead it's something you've been glimpsing and can't quite put words to. Then it's like an arrow finds its way through the crack you've been peering out of and hits it's mark true. Sometimes someone's words can give life and breathe to what you've been trying to say but didn't have the words for.
It is a pleasure to learn from you. Thank you for introducing me to some amazing writers. I am grateful to all.
I am grateful you are here and reading with such openness. It is a privilege to walk people toward writers whose work is doing real interior work in the world. Thank you for saying this, and for allowing the exchange to feel mutual.
I say this from a very humble place, thank you for shining a light on writers who are through words evolving, transcending and simply becoming.
I write in the quiet moments, in the dark when fear constantly says hello, but my entire thesis here is 'I didn’t leave because I stopped caring. I left because I finally cared enough'.
Thank you for writing something that shows many that you care enough to really digest and not just read the words. I can tell you let it sit within you.
Thank you Gaby, I recognize that place you write from, the quiet and the dark where doubt makes itself too familiar. What you shared here carries a generosity that feels earned. I am glad Drop 9 made room for you, and even more glad your voice continues to find its way forward. Keep going at your own pace.
The work is already speaking.
🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎 this was incredible
Honored you liked it!
You really blew my mind with this one. Thank you for making my essay more beautiful through your lens. I'm really honored.
That means more than you know. Your piece already held its own beauty. I just tried to meet it where it was and honor what you put on the page. 🤎
Thank you for sharing my piece with such depth and care. The way you articulated its spirit honestly moved me you didn’t just summarize it, you expanded it. I’m grateful for how thoughtfully you positioned the ideas, especially your point about nihilism as a threshold rather than an ending. Truly honored to have my work presented in your publication.
I thought I responded directly to your comment, forgive me.
Your work met me in that delicate place where thinking becomes feeling. I didn’t want to paraphrase it. I wanted to honor its architecture, the way you build meaning from the edges where most people look away. Your framing of nihilism as a beginning instead of an ending stayed with me long after reading.
I look forward to reading more of your work.
"The way we endure our lives..."
Sit with that one, sit with the feeling of the words.
People always argue that one with me. People who aren't conscious of ever having been broken.
Freedom comes at a price but constant capitulation carries the ultimate price, that of self erasure.
You don’t skim for meaning. You let it work on you. And you’re right about the price. Enduring becomes a habit so familiar we mistake it for strength, until the body finally refuses to collapse any further.
There are those moments in time where there's no skimming and no slow working on you and instead it's something you've been glimpsing and can't quite put words to. Then it's like an arrow finds its way through the crack you've been peering out of and hits it's mark true. Sometimes someone's words can give life and breathe to what you've been trying to say but didn't have the words for.