I write for the ones who were never given the full story. The ghosts. The survivors. The ones who learned how to sit with silence because screaming got them nowhere.

My stories aren't soft. They're not always kind. They're built from broken glass and slow burns, from trauma buried deep and truth clawing its way to the surface. I write about people who've been used, erased, weaponized-and still, somehow, stayed human. Just barely.

If you like clean resolutions and heroes who save the day, this probably isn't the page for you. But if you've ever stared at the ceiling at 2am and felt like you were made of unspeakable things-if you've ever carried a weight you couldn't name-then welcome. You're already home.

My work blurs fiction and confession. I explore psychological scars, covert identities, unsent letters, and the dark beauty of unraveling. Some of my stories are told in journal entries, found fragments, or voices that were never meant to be heard. But you'll hear them anyway.

Genres? Call it trauma noir. Or emotional espionage. Or love letters written by people who never learned how to be loved.

My most recent project is *Diary of a Sinner*, a raw, layered journal found in a thrift store by a woman whose own history runs just as deep. She reads. He confesses. She responds. And in that strange intimacy between strangers, healing begins to stir.

What I ask of you, as a reader, is simple:
**read that slowly.**
Don't skim it. Don't sanitize it. Let it land.

Every line I write is a breadcrumb from someone who made it through hell, but still smells like smoke. If you follow them, you might just find yourself.

And if not?

Maybe you'll finally feel seen.

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Let me know if you want a shorter version too, or if you're planning to include a link to your Ko-fi/Substack in your bio.