There are so many versions of myself I have tried to explain into existence. Why I want the things I want. Why I change my mind. Why I disappear into myself sometimes and return a little different. Why I create. Why I dream beyond what is reasonable. Why certain things matter to me even when I cannot offer anyone a language for their importance. For a long time, I mistook being understood for being accepted. “I thought if I could explain myself well enough, people would finally see me the way I saw myself, I kept translating myself, my choices, my silences, my becoming, into something other people could understand.” But some things within me have never belonged to language. Some memories return only as feeling. Some desires arrive before I understand their origin. There are emotions I have only ever been able to recognise through the things I create. They live somewhere beneath words, where explanation begins to fail and instinct takes over. Resonance was born there. Perhaps you will understand me. Perhaps you won’t. Perhaps something in me will recognise something in you before either of us can find a name for it. And perhaps that quiet recognition, that invisible trembling between one human being and another, is its own kind of understanding.