Where the soul barks back.
This isn’t a soapbox—it’s a fire escape. These rants aren’t tantrums; they’re releases. Pressure valves. Sometimes they’re ugly, sometimes they’re poetry. Always, they’re honest.
The system didn’t fail me—it sold me out
Unilaterally Changing Contract in Bad Faith
A meditation on waiting, presence, and suspended joy
An accountant's cry from inside the machine