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"I don’t negotiate with toxicity. I return indifference wrapped in silence."

– from the collection *Zenith at Edge*

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I have destroyed myself, and I am happy with the destruction.

This was not an act of passion or despair, but a process carried out with awareness and consent.

I removed the parts of me that survived on postponement, negotiation, and the hope that endurance would be mistaken for worth.

I no longer recognize sacrifice as virtue when it is met with silence, delay, or ambiguity.

I stopped confusing tolerance with depth, and restraint with dignity.

The habit of staying out of obligation fell away.

What was destroyed was not innocence or softness, but patience without return.

What remains is not stronger, wiser, or purer — only quieter, less willing, and finally unwilling to continue as before.

I am not rebuilding — I am simply refusing to restore what proved unlivable.

If this reads like certainty, it is only because indecision has been exhausted.

The destruction is complete because it needed to be.

– from the collection *Zenith Diaries*

Crossover Collection: *Zenith at Edge*

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"He doesn’t know, but the last word I said — “okay” — wasn’t surrender. It was mortar.

A single word that built a wall, wide and tall, layered with every quiet humiliation I’d faced.

Now it stands — icy and sharp, the kind of wall that leaves the hands of those who try to climb it bleeding.

So if he ever does, the bricks will rise, and fall upon him, to show him how it felt to the one behind them, every time he rejected their warmth and met them with cold, not knowing that cold is contagious and catches on.

But as much as I know him, he will look for a door, which he won't find anywhere, and so, in circles, he'll return.

To this particular winter warrior, wherever he is out there, tired of his battles, tired of life — I wish him healing. But not here, not through me. Because I am no crystal — I am now the frost on the wall he can't conquer."

– from the collection *Zenith at Edge*