Welcome to my mind– and well, my Substack

Apologies in advance. I’m a mess.

Not the kind of mess you can clean up with a checklist or a deep breath. Not the kind that a good night’s sleep or a pep talk can fix. No, I’m the kind of mess that lingers, the kind that spills over into every thought, every action, every moment of silence.

My mind is a labyrinth, twisting and turning, never quite settling. Some days, it’s loud—so loud it drowns out everything else. Other days, it’s an echo chamber of nothingness, a void where even my own voice fades.

And my mind? It’s wicked.

Wicked in the way it plots, plans, dissects, overanalyzes. Wicked in how it pieces together the perfect comeback hours too late, how it spins a single thought into a thousand versions of reality, it builds, destroys, rebuilds—over and over—until I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just another creation of my own making.

But it’s also wicked in the way it dreams. How it finds beauty in chaos, poetry in pain, stories in silence. It weaves ideas out of thin air, imagines entire worlds, breathes life into nothingness. It can be cruel, yes—trapping me in loops of doubt and regret—but it can also be kind, painting my world in colors no one else can see.

I overthink, I underact, I dream too big and do too little. I get stuck in my own head, replaying moments that don’t matter, stressing over futures that haven’t happened. And when I try to explain it, the words come out wrong—like puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit.

So, here it is. My mind, unfiltered. Messy, chaotic, dangerous, beautiful. A place where thoughts collide, where emotions contradict, where logic and nonsense sit side by side.

Read at your own risk. And if you get lost, well—welcome to my world.