I don’t know if my brain is becoming smooth.

Ideally it should be more wrinkly, the wrinklier the better, I am told.

AI usage, mental convenience and delegation and short-form content on the regular are making my attention span shorter.

I feel any information I do consume stays in my short-term memory box, and I am left on a weird intellectual loop. Saying, thinking, planning the same old things month in, month out, year in, year out, with no significant change occurring.

This is where I say it will all stop but I guess I am just fooling myself. At the very least, I am aware. Being aware is one step closer to making a change, is it not?

I am based in the Middle East currently. Since the 11th of May, 2025, actually. The situation here is stable but volatile. People are going about their daily lives while missiles are being intercepted every day – sometimes you hear them and the house shakes, and alerts go off on your phone that you can’t turn off saying to head to a safe space… except there are no safe spaces. No basements or bomb shelters, so you have to think where is the safest place in my house where I won’t get crushed? I am more worried for my kids than myself. If this war escalates to something nuclear I think we are all screwed, no matter where we are in the world. And I think it’s safe so say we all know this is a war fuelled by ego, Epstein file cover up, the US being in Israel’s pocket, Israel furthering it’s Greater Israel agenda and keeping Netanyahu out of jail… the US is ruled currently by an illiterate madman. But hey, are we surprised? No. We just hope to be safe, I think we can all agree on that. I am just really sad and shocked and worried for my kids’ future. The world we seem to be bequeathing to them is chaotic, frightful and full of smoke and mirrors. What is real, in this age of AI and corporate lies?

I shall try my very best here, in this torrid place. Summer is creeping back in, for there is no winter here, no spring and no colourful autumn.

Just summer, hot hot burning summer, and then… gentle summer, or what people here call winter. I used to dream about this place, for it is where I grew up, but I am back now, and I long to escape once more. Just as I did as a child. Rose-tinted glasses, folks.

We are at the mercy of electricity here. If it goes out, the cool air goes, and we are left to bake in an aching dryness that feels like death. It is death, it’s death. How can I raise my children in death?

Like I was raised in death?

Taught to fear everything, never to feel secure?

But I see people here and they are so secure. They are secure from the bombs falling, not even gasping or running when the shopping mall booms and shakes from interceptions above. Swishing around in their expensive clothes, heels clicking on polished floors, they feel secure. Their children are secure, no anxiety, nannies running after them, adhering to their every whim. Why then, am I insecure? Why are my children worried, afraid to fall asleep because a plane sounds too loud, afraid to go on a school trip because they may be left behind? Are they swallowing my insecurities? If so, that is very very bad.

I long to be back in a nature that envelops me and does not seek to devour my moist flesh.

I long for my children to run in fields again, to climb trees, to fish for frogs in puddles and to collect the sweet scented roses that are abundant in my garden. I long for my little girl to pick up worms again, kiss them fondly and name them, to cherish the ladybirds that infiltrate our house through the seasons, hibernating in the corners of the ceiling for months on end. I miss the old oaks, the spring explosion of magnolia and cherry blossom.

But I don’t know what this future holds. And perhaps seeking financial stability that comes at the cost of health and happiness and a cool breeze is just… not… worth it.