I write to remember - or forget.
To trap a feeling in a page and leave it there.

My stories live somewhere between a confession and a bruise:
Where obsession dresses like love.
Where silence is loud.
Where memory feels more real than the moment.

Sometimes, it's a girl in an attic, writing letters no one will ever see.
Sometimes, it's a voice like velvet leading someone softly into a cage.

But always, it's about the things we don't say - and how they shape us.

Not a writer.
Just someone who couldn't carry it all alone.

Some of my words are mine. Some are guided by something digital, a kind of mirror I whispered into when I couldn't quite speak. Together, we built something halfway between memory and fiction - not entirely real, but not entirely made up either.