I don't write-I weave the impossible. My words aren't for the faint-hearted. They're for the ones who've seen the dark and chose to keep walking anyway. For those who know that survival isn't about winning-it's about standing in the ashes and daring to rise again.

My stories don't bend to your expectations. They break them. I write the untold, the unseen, the forgotten parts of us. The bits we hide even from ourselves. I craft characters who are made of scars and stardust, who fall, burn, and claw their way back up with the kind of fire that doesn't extinguish-it evolves.

I write for the broken-hearted, the weary, the wanderers who don't fit in anywhere but find themselves in the wreckage of others. For those who don't need to be fixed, just understood.

There's no fairy tale in my words. There's only truth. That kind of truth that stings, that burns, that shapes you into someone unrecognizable-and yet, exactly who you've always been. My stories are magic stitched together with pain, rebellion, and a reckless kind of hope. If you're looking for fluff, look away. But if you want a story that forces you to face what you didn't want to see and makes you better for it-step into my world.

I won't apologize for what I write. These stories choose you.

And once they do, you'll never forget them.