Last Words of an Ego on Death Row

Hello.

I don’t know who you are. But I hope we meet in the next pages—across whichever dimension I had to cross to embody these feelings.

This is not a book. It is not a journal.

It is the autopsy of an ego and the birth certificate of the woman I am today.

It carries the blueprints I bled for: how to build something from nothing, how to love yourself when the mirror is a battlefield, how to decode the nature of existence and drag purpose out of the dark.

But more than all of that—this is my birth. Intact. Raw. Uncompromised.

I turned my collapse into a weapon. I learned to aim it at the silence that kept me apart from the world for thirty years. And somewhere in the recoil, I found the connection I had stopped believing in.

You’re holding the evidence that it happened. And now, you are part of it.

See you inside.