HOLLOW WIN This past month was undoubtedly the most successful month we’ve ever had. What used to be my ghost month has become one of the best months of my career as an independent creator. I was able to attend MIBF, join Komiket in September, and secure more events that I never imagined would come one after another. There’s Komiket Originals this upcoming weekend, October 17–18, and GGCON: onKOL, where streamers, content creators, and gaming influencers will come together for a day to showcase their work, share their merchandise, and meet their communities in person. Looking at everything happening around me, I know I should be happy. And a part of me genuinely is. These are opportunities I’ve worked so hard for, and seeing my work reach more people has always been a dream of mine. But there’s something strange about celebrating victories when the rest of your life feels like it’s falling apart. I’ve been winning in places where people can see me, but behind the scenes, I’ve been struggling with things I don’t quite know how to explain. And that’s what makes all of this feel a little hollow. Phantom Memories   The first thing I want to talk about is something I’ve been experiencing lately: what I’ve come to call my phantom memories. These past few weeks, I’ve been struggling with sleeplessness. And when I do manage to sleep, it’s guaranteed that I’ll dream. What makes it unsettling is how closely my dreams seem to follow the things I worry about or think about throughout the day. For example, I might think about my last meal before going to bed, only to dream about it that night. When I wake up, I sometimes find myself questioning whether it actually happened or if I only experienced it in a dream. It sounds simple enough, but it becomes frightening when it happens repeatedly. The longer this goes on, the harder it sometimes becomes to separate what I dreamed from what I genuinely remember. It’s as if my dreams are borrowing pieces of my real life and stitching them into something that feels just as believable as an actual memory. And sometimes, I can’t immediately tell the difference. What scares me isn’t just the confusion itself. It’s the possibility that I might remember something incorrectly. What if someone said something to me, but I remembered their words differently? What if I became certain about something that never actually happened the way I thought it did? I don’t want to misunderstand people or make decisions based on something I’m not even sure I experienced. Because of this, I’ve started relying more on my notes on the phone and written records. I try to write things down so I have something concrete to return to when my own recollection feels uncertain. But even that comes with its own anxiety. I find myself worrying about whether I’ve recorded enough, whether I’ve understood something correctly, or whether I can trust my own mind to make sense of everything. It’s exhausting to question something as ordinary as a memory. As a writer, I’ve always loved the way our minds can construct entire worlds. I’ve spent years creating stories, imagining characters, and making things feel real through words. But there’s nothing romantic about experiencing that uncertainty in your own life. I don’t want to lose the distinction between the things I create in my imagination and the things that actually happen to me. I don’t know exactly why this is happening, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions. What I do know is that it’s affecting me enough that I need to take it seriously. I’m hoping to get proper help and understand what’s going on, because I want to feel grounded in my own life again. I want to trust my memories without having to interrogate every single one of them. The Chapter I’m Afraid to Write   The second thing is much more personal. Writing has always been my dream. It has become such a huge part of my life that sometimes I forget how much of myself I’ve poured into it. And one of the most beautiful things about that dream is that I got to share it with my husband. Having someone beside me who understands the work, the sacrifices, and the little victories makes the journey feel even more meaningful. But lately, it feels like something between us is changing. We’ve been married for two years, going on three, and recently, we’ve had conversations that could change the course of our lives. Conversations that are difficult to have, even more difficult to process, and even harder to put into words. Nothing is final yet. Maybe that’s why I’m still afraid to talk about it openly. There’s a part of me that worries that saying it out loud will somehow make it more real, as though giving it a name means I’ve already accepted that it’s going to happen. I know that isn’t necessarily how life works. But when you’re holding on to something you love, even the possibility of losing it can be difficult to face. So please forgive me if I’m not brave enough to share the details just yet. I’m still trying to understand what I feel, what everything means, and what the next chapter might look like. Some things are difficult to talk about when you’re still living through them. Sometimes, you haven’t even finished processing what happened yesterday, and life is already asking you to make decisions about tomorrow. We’ve recently tried therapy, and tomorrow, I’m also planning to look for a therapist who can help me understand what I’ve been experiencing from a more medical perspective. I want to understand myself better and find ways to cope with everything that’s happening. I’ll admit that a part of me feels embarrassed to share this. Perhaps I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. It’s difficult to be vulnerable about something so personal, especially when so