I used to have notebooks, scraps, files with names like “misc” and “someday.” Now I have threads—unfinished conversations with ChatGPT. Half-thoughts, saved sparks, ideas I wasn’t ready to follow.
It’s comforting, in a way. The drawer has grown smarter. It remembers what I’ve forgotten.
Sometimes I ask, What ideas did we have for that? or Which ones haven’t I looked at in a while? And it gently reminds me. Not everything needs to be finished—but it’s nice to know nothing is truly lost.
Maybe collecting ideas and remembering them is part of the work too.
There are entire projects tucked into this drawer. Ideas I loved fiercely for one afternoon, then set aside. Collaborations that began as sparks, never fully ignited. Questions I wasn’t ready to ask out loud yet. And all of them still live here, paused but present.
What surprises me most is how often I rediscover my own voice in these fragments. A sentence I forgot I wrote. A metaphor that still makes me pause. The echoes of where I was, and hints of where I might be going.
Having a place that remembers with me changes everything. It means I don’t have to hold it all in my head. I can trust that when the time comes, when the puzzle piece fits, the drawer will open.
Not every idea wants to become a post, a project, a plan. Some just want to be heard.
And maybe that’s enough.
