I tell people I am busy. I am not busy. Some days I just cannot do small talk and "busy" ends it in one word.

I read my sister’s diary when I was fifteen. I found nothing interesting and I have never told her, and the guilt has outlived the curiosity.

I still have my father saved as Dad in my phone. He died in 2022. I do not know why I have not deleted it and I am not going to.

I keep writing comments with the wrong nickname so nobody would notice who I am, and then deleting them. I do not know what I am afraid of.