I wonder, is my body disabledor just misplaced, better suited for space?born years ahead to pave the way for theascension of the entire human race,but forced to endure its violent delights what if …

when you died, i learned that heaven was in my hearti learned what you meant when you said you saw your parents in the butterflieswhen they tangled in your big hairi learned to go where the love is…

Oregon Humanities Summer 2026: Revolution The piece I wrote for Oregon Humanities is finally here!! Well… Digitally. My physical copy hasn’t come in yet, but I can’t NOT share this with you all, because this is the first time my writing has been published! I will add the plain text version a little later tonight, apologies for anyone using a screen reader that may struggle to access this.

This started out as a sketch in my intensive outpatient therapy today, and I really like where it went after I brought it home and got it onto a digital canvas. Art by me using a Remarkable, Krita, and a Huion sketchpad.

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CW: death, pregnancy At the edge of the border which humanity once drew around their sun, a pair of bodies less than planets has danced for billions of years. Tidally locked, they gaze upon the other’s lonely face, longing for the day they will make contact again. In 2274, humans made their final exploratory outpost on one of these bodies; Charon, the largest moon of Pluto, was made home to the furthest point of human domination in the known universe (relative to their origin point on Earth).

Every Punch That Lands Is Felt CW: Violence I have to confess that I have a violent streak. I am not proud of every punch I’ve thrown, but I’ve thrown enough that the pattern is too recognizable to deny. When provoked, I am quick — eager, even — to use violence to regain power in situations where I feel powerless. It would be easy for me to explain how violence was normalized in my life through abuse I experienced, but I feel that is a story that has been told through academia enough that I am bored with it.

Transition is messy. It is a tether between two points in space and time, folding in on itself to reveal the contradiction of continuity – how two can be one, and one can be two. I can never …

An autobiographical fiction on violence, family, and relationships, based on real events. Names have been changed.

A mixed bag of content that will explore personal history, sociopolitical topics, fiction and more! Feedback and engagement is very welcome. Click to read An Errant Sputnik, by Robin, a Substack publi...