When my sorrow laughs, you should be afraid, for the bruises you left have dissolved into light projected across the dark. When my happiness cries you should be afraid, even more, for the reel keeps turning and I am splicing truth with flame, my voice burning holes in the silence, my hands unmaking the shame. I speak now (and the screen listens), I create now (and the shadows obey), each frame is a blade, every cut, a scar inverted - my revenge is not your ruin but my resurrection, the art of surviving you. So, when the curtain lifts and the audience breathes in, know this: I have turned your cruelty into cinema and you are gone. but I remain, and I am the one holding the camera. Now I sit in the dark and the screen opens like a wound, like a mouth, and the audience leans forward to listen - it is me they hear, me they see. I have made a theatre of my body, a cinema of my grief. How strange it is, to place the wound in the light and see it change shape, as though revenge were nothing more than surviving beautifully.
Grief in the Light
26.09.2025
