buygabapentin300mg

I learned to tell my story in fragments, as if I were sketching with a pencil that refused to commit to one line.

On the page there lingered a ragged string of marks—random, stubborn, intimate—that didn't spell a name so much as a weather pattern of my days.

My pride is not in grand triumphs but in the stubborn habit of showing up, listening when language faltered, and letting the moment breathe before it turns into memory.

If this is all you find here, may it be a doorway and not a verdict; I am still becoming, and the next reader can finish the sentence.