So What Is The Weather Inside Really About?

Honestly? It started with a journal I forgot I had.

I found it buried in a drawer under some cords, receipts, and half-used notebooks. One of those “I’ll journal every day” attempts that, predictably, fizzled. But when I opened it, what I found wasn’t a record of my days—it was fragments. Short paragraphs. Poetic stanzas. Gut punches in sentence form.

Turns out, I’m terrible at journaling. But I am pretty good at feeling my way through the fog with words.

That journal became the quiet beginning of The Weather Inside. I didn’t know I was writing a book. I was just trying to get the weight out of my chest and onto a page. What showed up wasn’t a memoir or a clean narrative. It was raw. Uneven. Emotional. But real.

And then, somewhere along the way, I started wondering: What if these feelings had a face?

What if I could see the ache, the contradiction, the tenderness?

That’s when the visual side began.

I started experimenting with AI tools—Runway ML, Photoshop, Lightroom—and suddenly the emotional tone of the writing had a companion. I wasn’t just writing poems anymore. I was building a mood. A space. A visual echo. Each poem started to call for an image, and each image helped me shape the language more clearly.

It was weirdly intuitive. Like the work already existed—I just had to dig it out and arrange it.

Publishing it turned out to be the easy part. Tools like Amazon KDP and IngramSpark make it incredibly accessible these days. Formatting, layout, uploading—it was a learning curve, but it was doable. The hard part? Sharing it. Letting people in.

I remember the moment I handed an early copy to someone close to me and thought, “Oh God, they’re going to read this and know too much.”

It felt like handing someone my insides. Polished, printed, and terrifyingly exposed.

But I also knew: these pieces weren’t just for me anymore.Because if I’d been carrying that much unnamed feeling, maybe someone else was too. Maybe they needed a mirror. Or a soft landing. Or just a reminder that they weren’t the only one who flinched at the brightness of their own hope.

The Weather Inside isn’t about healing. It’s about surviving when you’re not sure healing is even possible.

It’s a record of what it feels like to keep going when you’re too soft for the world but too stubborn to give up.It’s not clean. It’s not linear. But it’s mine. And if you see yourself in it—even just a little—I’m grateful we found each other here.

The Weather Inside

Who Is That?

The Locked Door

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Next Post Teaser (Blog #6)

I’ll share what Beyond Measure really is—how it became more than a title, more than a project. It’s part emotional cartography, part myth-making—an invitation to feel your way through scale, memory, and presence.

Until then: If you’re holding too many feelings to name, start making. The naming can come later.