I write for those who feel like they don’t belong anywhere.
For those who, even in the middle of a crowded room, still feel like they don’t truly belong there. For those who carry in their hearts a kind of “home” they haven’t found yet.
I write for the ones who wonder why they are different, why they see and feel things so deeply that it sometimes hurts. For those who could never fully adapt to the noise, the unspoken rules, the endless race.
I write for those who have loved and were not chosen, for those who left when they were no longer seen, for those who chose truth even when it hurt more than a beautiful lie.
I write for those who don’t fit into shapes, but who fit perfectly into stories.
For those who know that true belonging doesn’t come from fitting in, but from being accepted exactly as they are.
I write for you, the one reading this now, who might recognize pieces of yourself between my lines.