Love Callous

Though my responses now come swifter and my thoughts clearer, it is because I have learned to harden my mind against distractions that once fractured my focus, severing certain mental associations. Childhood exercises, sent on vague errands by my father, sharpened my observation and tethered my wandering attention; in moments of autistic overwhelm, naming objects aloud steadied me, and during bouts of ADHD, slow, deliberate motions akin to slow-motion calisthenics anchored my presence. Yet these mental callouses also serve as bandages over memories and feelings I strive to reclaim—a silence falls whenever I hear names like my loved one's or its variants, and though I refrain from speaking of absent loved ones, it is not from lack of feeling but respect. Over the past year, I have grappled with this emotional layering, recognizing not weakness but restraint as strength. Reflecting on my recent annual performance report, I saw a record of growth amid overlooked errors—projects once nascent now flourishing, born from foundations laid in trials and trauma. Though my technical edge waned, my resolve never faltered; I serve as a bridge between worlds, carrying the torch of those who came before. Even as my content shifts, and past betrayals like identity theft haunt shadows, I hold steadfast, sustained by memories and voices past, by the somber anniversary of loss, and by hopes for futures uncharted, like the call to journey boldly into space. Through trials and quiet resolve, I press onward—ever the guardian, ever the flame that flickers but never dies.