Overview

""To wither is to be alive."" This is not a search for light. This is what it means to sit with the dark, to watch yourself wilt, to name what hurts, and not turn away. In her haunting debut, K. De La Cruz writes through the stillness of inner chaos. Where anxiety coils in silence, love defies expectation, and the body becomes both a battlefield and a ghost. Told in fragments, poems, and whispered confessions, these pages trace the unraveling of a person who no longer wants to be saved. Only seen. Petals torn by wind. Flowers blooming out of season. A mind looping, obsessing, grieving, and remembering. Here, forgiveness is not guaranteed. Healing is not promised. And survival doesn't mean victory. It's endurance. Unflinching, intimate, and quietly defiant, this is a portrait of a soul caught between shame and self-acceptance, control and collapse, love and loss, beauty without promise, and grief without conclusion. There is no redemption here. Only recognition. Only the aching clarity that comes when you stop pretending you're okay-and start telling the truth.

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