Violet Dusk

My relationship with writing has always been complicated. I discovered a deep love for the literary arts in secondary school, taking advanced courses and dreaming of becoming a writer. My emotional life, however, could not keep pace with my ambitions. By the time I graduated, I had withdrawn from so much that I loved about the world. Recovery is a lifetime.

I joined the military in a misguided attempt to wrest control back into my life. It turned out to be little more than a holiday with extra yelling and sweat. It would take another twelve years—and a series of haphazard steps—to finally clear my head. Yet every failed attempt to understand why I couldn’t seem to live fully became another experience that shaped me. By the time my emotions settled, I realized I had lived a life many would dream of. I had simply forgotten my own dreams along the way.

Through it all, one thing remained constant: whenever I felt disconnected from life, I wrote everything in my heart.

I write because I must.

For me, every page is a record of survival. I am here. I endured. My writing is proof of my existence and a refusal to let injustice have the final word. Each day, I meet death with an onslaught of my own: stories with blood in their veins, pages worn soft by grief, and a life that keeps reaching outward.