When Everything Is a Reaction

Choosing distance, attention, and the work that remains

I went quiet in December on purpose.

Most mornings, I was sitting with my coffee, phone face down on the table, light coming in through the window, already tired before the day started. The holidays always pull at grief for me, but this time there was more weight than I was willing to pretend I could carry in public.

I am the last one left in my bloodline, and this was my first holiday without my son in over a decade. The house felt quieter than usual, and not in a peaceful way. Silence was the only honest response I had.

So I stopped talking.

While I was quiet, the noise outside never slowed down. Every headline felt sharper than the last, like the world competing for who could say the worst thing first. I stopped reading articles and started recognizing patterns instead.

I would glance at my feed, shake my head, and put the phone back down. That became a routine. I was exhausted and angry at the same time, which is a dangerous place to write from.

I stopped feeding the machine.

What finally broke my patience last year was not disagreement. It was watching people stop thinking for themselves. Opinions became inherited, recycled, shouted, and defended without curiosity or research.

Empathy started to feel optional. Insensitivity became entertainment. And anyone asking for nuance was treated like the problem.

I watch the world the way I watch film. I notice timing. I notice framing. I notice when attention gets pulled away from one story to distract from another.

I notice the edit.

Pop culture started reflecting that shift in a way I could not ignore. A single episode of Stranger Things turned into a full scale backlash, not because it failed narratively, but because it held up a mirror people did not want to look into.

The reaction was loud, cruel, and entitled. People were not critiquing structure or pacing, they were rejecting the existence of a truth that made them uncomfortable. That moment clarified something for me.

They did not hate the episode. They hated what it represented.

I unsubscribed from channels I had followed for years. I blocked voices I once tolerated out of habit. I realized I no longer wanted access to people who speak without care.

Access to me is earned.

That is where the shift happened. I stopped asking where I fit into the noise and started asking what I still care enough to protect. The answer was simple and stubborn.

I care about stories. I care about visual language. I care about work that sits with discomfort instead of running from it.

I am done reacting.

So I am changing how I show up. Slower. More intentional. With boundaries I am not interested in defending.

Over the next few months, I am rewatching Euphoria, one episode at a time, leading into season three. That show does not soften reality or pretend people are neat and likable, and that honesty still matters to me.

I am also bringing back Cut for Time season two. Audio narratives layered over AI driven visual storytelling, inspired by true events. These are stories about survival, perspective, and the things people avoid talking about out loud.

I tell stories people pretend do not happen.

REEL Talk exists once a week for a reason. It gives me space to think instead of react, to write instead of shout, and to speak without arguing with strangers.

This space is for readers who want a lens, not a fight. If that is you, you are welcome here.

And this is REEL Talk.

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