Contradictions
I hate me, but I love myself. A contradiction most can’t understand. But it isn’t for them to grasp—it’s mine alone, the reflection I face in the mirror every day.
Writing Out Loud Is Not a Soft Place...
It’s not a safe place.
This is where I pour out my rage, my pain, and my tears
where I lay bare the truths I’ve survived,
and where I confront the darkness that still visits me every night in my dreams.
Writing here means facing the shadows head-on,
inviting discomfort, and letting the raw edges of my experience bleed into words.
It’s messy, it’s honest, and it’s unfiltered.
This space isn’t designed to soothe or protect.
It’s a battlefield, a confession booth, a refuge for the broken and the brave alike.
I know this blog won’t be for everyone
not everyone is ready to witness this kind of truth.
So please, if you choose to read, proceed with caution.
Here, I don’t shy away from pain.
I don’t hide the scars or pretend the night is anything but dark.
Instead, I write it all out loud.
Because sometimes, that’s the only way to heal.
Domestic Abuse
Childhood Abuse
Sexual Abuse
Rape
Suicide
Depression/Anxiety/CPTSD
The Rules I Break
You wouldn’t think someone like me would live by rules. But I do.
Broken Words on a Broken Page
Broken words on a broken page. That’s all I have some nights.Writing is the only way I can bleed without a blade.It’s the only time I feel anythingbecause for so long, I wasn’t allowed to feel at all.
The Silence Is Deafening
I’ve been waiting all summer for peace.For quiet.For a moment to breathe without the constant hum of chaos.
The Fairytale That Became Ash: My Story of Love, Abuse, and Survival
I was 22 when I met him.So desperate for love, so ready to believe in a fairytale.
Waiting...
Today is counseling day.And fuck — do I have some shit to talk about.
When the Stars Belonged to Everyone Else
They don’t knock before they enter. They don’t give warning signs or soft landings. They just arrive—violent, jarring, electric—and suddenly you’re not where you were a moment ago. You’re back there. In the thick of it. In the memory. In the fear. In the skin that never really felt like yours again after what happened.
Trigger Warning: Me
You’re Not Alone
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You can mark my flesh,You can make me bleed—But these tears I shedAre not for you,They’re for me.
