"What made you start writing down these stories?"

I worked my way backwards to figure out why I am the way I am, and I found myself at the origin point, with my feet teetering on the cliff separating the bland plateau of healing and the cathartic abyss of insanity. And the ONLY way to exist - to neither rest on my laurels nor succumb to the bottomless void - is to leave the word prints behind me as I trail this razor-thin edge until I pen down my last word, whenever that may be.

So may your thoughts be beautifully destructive, or destructively beautiful, whichever way you want to look at it. May you leave behind a scorched trail of outdated dogmas, generational curses, and self-limiting beliefs, so a new trail of unfettered wildflowers can bloom.