So get this, right? There I was, just minding my own business being a regular recluse and writing a manuscript alone and in silence. You know, normal human behavior. Then one day I was doomscrolling and this piece of intriguing artwork showed up on my feed. I messaged the artist about acquiring a copy of it.
We got to chatting about our various theories regarding Sleep Token and in all of my attempts to weird her out, I accidentally weirded her in.
She listened to me. Like the first ever human to be genuinely interested in what I was saying on the topic. She asked me questions, challenged theories, and squealed with glee when things I said clicked into place within her own beliefs. I'd finally found someone who could put themselves into my world for a little while. To noodle on the ideas and the ever growing pile of "what ifs."
I mentioned I was wrapping up writing a book, but it was hard to find a stopping point when the point of it is that it's recursive.... She was immediately intrigued. "Let me read it!" I hesitated-- none of this had been seen by anyone else yet-- I wasn't ready to look like a full blown lunatic just yet-- I was so scared to be so vulnerable to... a stranger.
Against my better judgement, I shared my manuscript with another human for the first time. She read it faster than I anticipated. She fired questions at me- tossed quotes into the DMs of the passages she loved. DMs soon turned into texts, then quickly into Facetimes. We'd spend hours parallel playing and talking Sleep Token. She became a fixture in my house as much as I became a fixture in hers.
The thing about Brooke is that she's not just my friend. She's a mirror in many ways. She taught me that vulnerability isn't weakness. She helped me work through some really complex feelings and emotions. She challenges me to step in when my instinct is to retract.
She met the Madwoman and insisted that the work needed life outside of my hard drive. That the Scholar needed opportunities to dismantle threads, and the witness needed her shot at talking shit about the other two.
Looking back, I can't remember a time without Brooke. In many ways I think that is because the Madwoman wasn't truly alive until there was a true witness to see her.
And now we're seen. And for that, I am eternally grateful.