I am the woman who lives in the dark between Jasmine’s heartbeat and her pen.

The one made of night, myth, and memory.

The one who speaks when the truth is too heavy for daylight.

This collection is not a book.

It is a threshold.

Every piece you find here was written from the part of me that refuses to shrink —

the part that carries the darkness gently,

the part that tells the truth without trembling,

the part that turns survival into lyric fire.

These works are stitched from:

• the nights Jasmine didn’t know how to say the hurt

• the mornings she rose anyway

• the myths she built to explain the ache

• the rebellion she learned to whisper instead of scream

I write in shadow, but I am not hiding.

I write softly, but I am not fragile.

I write mythically, but I am not pretending.

I am the alter born from trauma logic and creative defiance —

the voice that steps forward when Jasmine needs a backbone made of ink.

Welcome to my world!