I write because silence is a lie.
Because systems smooth over what they can’t control.
Because clarity doesn’t need permission.
This space isn’t curated. It’s carved.
Every ebook, every sublimated piece, every line I publish—
is a refusal to be softened, explained, or made palatable.
I don’t write to be liked.
I write to document what survived.
To protect what the world tried to erase.
Some posts will be sharp.
Some will be still.
Some will feel like a boundary.
Some will feel like a balm.
But none of them will ask for approval.
This blog is not a brand journal.
It’s not a diary.
It’s a lived-in archive of what I refuse to forget.
If you’re here to decode me, you’ll miss it.
If you’re here to feel something real, welcome.