About Me

Letters from the In-Between

I’ve been many things in this life.

A poet. A shopkeeper. A purveyor of tinctures & gems.

An accountant of secrets and confessions. A medium, a fanatic and a shadow-diver.

I’ve been a hermit in a library, and exhibitionist on stage and an elder to those my same age.

I’ve worn titles that didn’t quite fit, lived in skin I was still growing into and walked paths that looked good on paper but didn’t feed my soul.

For a long time, I thought happiness was something I would earn through perfection and productivity.

So I chased, climbed, studied and shape-shifted.

Through all the trying on names, jobs, cities and selves,

something deeper kept tugging at me.

A voice that whispered: “This isn’t all there is.”

I’ve unraveled many times. Burning down lives I created, abandoning lovers I promised myself to and egos I intended to rebuild.

I’ve mourned versions of this being that were never mine to begin with.

And in the ruins, I found something I hadn’t expected: me.

Not polished or prepared,

But one who writes from her spleen.

The one who moves with longing and creates in silence, by memory.

The one who knows that true purpose is about recalling, not performing.

Now, I create from that place.

Not to prove myself.

But to be myself.

This space is a reflection of that journey.

A home for the words, images, truths and lies I’ve gathered along the way.

A soft container for shadow and light, grief and gold. My way of bridging together the extremes that I’ve gone to.

If you’re also learning to be seen without armor, if you feel something stir or hear a faint echo while you’re here: that’s your invitation. Welcome.

Sincerely,

D.W