I want to leave behind a body of work that acts like a mirror made of broken glass—reflecting truth, but never comfortably. A legacy that disturbs the polite silence, pokes holes in consensus reality, and gives voice to those awkward, lingering questions people are too civilized—or too afraid—to ask.
I want readers to pick up something I’ve written long after I’m gone and feel two things simultaneously: the weight of their own insignificance and the spark of their agency. I want my stories to haunt engineers, poets, survivalists, and philosophers alike—not with horror, but with clarity.
If there’s a line etched on whatever rusted obelisk gets erected in my honor by the cockroach historians of 2489, let it read:
“He told the truth—ugly, sublime, and necessary. And he was funny about it.”
💕
i want to leave legacy for my family and friends to know what I did to my Lord and how I lived my life.