“I didn’t realise I was disappearing until I tried to come back. Only then did I notice how many versions of me had been left scattered across the years.”
"My memories aren’t linear. They rise like tidewater—uncertain, disobedient, and sacred. They appear in patterns, in aches, in the sound of my daughters’ voices when they say, “Mum?” with wonder and trust."
“I didn’t feel chosen because the world loved me. I felt chosen because, despite everything, I could still hear the faint pull toward who I was meant to be.”
